


Akua Lapu

by ShaunH



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaunH/pseuds/ShaunH
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester head to Hawaii to investigate the deaths and disappearances of several children attributed to the legendary ghost known as the Green Lady.  They find that the elite police unit Five-O has already claimed jurisdiction, and the Winchesters quickly find themselves as suspects in their own case.  But when the life of the daughter of one of Five-O's own is put at risk, the two groups will have to put their differences aside to defeat a force even the Winchesters' father couldn't overcome.





	Akua Lapu

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written more than two years ago for a friend, but it remains my largest completed project to date. I worked really hard to get the banter between the characters right and to throw a few twists in that I hope surprise you. I hope that you enjoy it and feel like I respected both properties. Please provide me some honest feedback, it would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Now get reading! :D - Shaun

**Supernatural** / Hawaii Five-O

 

_“Akua Lapu”_

 

 

            “Come on, Mom!”

            Kamalei ran excitedly along the edge of the walking trail, bouncing from one shrub to the next like a jackrabbit.  Flowers and trees and every kind of tropic flora bristled around her in every direction.  Vibrant shades of pinks and oranges and yellows popped like fireworks against a sea of green, and she wanted to see every inch of the trail.  She stopped only to look back and make sure her mother was still in visible distance before bolting ahead again.

            Ona, Kamalei's mother, was visibly exhausted.  Her feet and calves ached with every step, her breath was ragged, and her hair and clothes stuck to her from humidity so thick it was like wading through wet cement.  Despite being unable to keep up with her young daughter Ona couldn't help but be amused by Kamalei's bottomless well of energy.  But the clear, deep blue of the sky was turning steadily darker as the sun set and dusk creeped across the horizon.  Soon it would be too dark to see clearly and the chances of Kamalei tripping on a rock or wandering out of her line of sight were too high for Ona to gamble against.

            “Hold on, Kamalei,” said Ona.  “We need to get back to the car, it's getting dark!”

            But Kamalei did not hear her mother call.  A flutter of red caught her attention from deep in the trees.  She recognized the tiny, scarlet bird with it's black-tipped wings and the thin beak curved like a claw from a picture in her school textbook. 

            “Apapane!” she whispered with astonishment, and she stumbled into the trees after it.

            Like the strike of lightning that gave new life to the Frankenstein monster, a jolt of adrenaline blasted through Ona's body when Kamalei deviated from the trail out of sight.  Natural instinct kicked in hard.  She was instantly more alert than she had been all day.   Ona darted after her daughter, ignoring the hot, sharp pain and soreness spreading in her muscles.

            Kamalei ran gracelessly, her neck craned and her eyes scanning the foliage for glimpses of the crimson bird as it flickered in and out of view among the treetops.  Grass and leaves and dirt crackled underfoot with each hurried step.

            And then the ground gave way.  Kamalei tumbled down a steep slope head-first.  She bounced and rolled off of her back, arms, and hips, slamming into hard earth with each turn.  On one roll her head collided with a tree branch, spinning her hard in the opposite direction.  She crumpled at the bottom of the gulch at the lip of a tiny stream.  The stream was cool, yet smelled of wet rot.  Dark blood trickled from the girl's hair and mingled with the tranquil flow of the water.

            “Kamalei!”  Ona's voice rasped with desperation as she called out to her daughter.  She sprinted full-bore through the trees until the forest broke open , revealing the steep , narrow gulch below.  Dirt and sand and soil sprayed outward off the cliff as Ona skidded to a halt, her sneakers digging into the forest floor. 

            The gulch was approximately 40 feet across at the top, but was even deeper.  It could only have been five or six feet wide at the bottom before sloping up again.  It was as if a wedge had been cut from the earth.  The trees at the top of the slope cast long shadows over the deep valley that criss-crossed like the wisping tendrils of a broken spiders' web.  A moderate breeze swayed the trees, which caused the shadows to ebb and flow like a black tide threatening to swallow the chasm.  Yet still visible through the breaks in the shadows was a small body laid awkwardly at the vertice of the valley.  It did not move.

            Ona ran precariously down the slope.  Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might punch out of her chest.  The breeze was becoming proportionally stronger as she descended.  In her urgency she was careless.  She twisted her ankle on a protruding root and tumbled down the last ten feet.  The fall was rough, but the adrenaline kept Ona going.  She quickly checked her ankle- definitely sprained, probably not broken- and turned her attention back to Kamalei.

            The sky was darker now, and starless.   Clear just moments before, grey, fingerlike clouds clawed their way across the sky.  The humidity thickened in the air and the first speckles of hot rain pelted Kamalei's face, which burned from several shallow cuts.  It hurt too much to move, though she was too scared something was broken to try anyway.  She needed help. 

            Just then, from the corner of her eyes,  Kamalei saw a feminine figure emerge from the shadows, reaching out to her.

            “Mommy?” she cried weakly.

            “Kamalei!” came her mother's grave cry from the opposite direction.

            The rain exploded into a torrential downpour.  Sheets of water crashed into Kamalei from the sky, each wave like a hard punch.  The stream was no longer a trickling line across the ground.  Kamalei could feel the water rising underneath her and behind her ears.  The gulch was flash-flooding.  The sky flickered orange and red.  Lightning cracked like a gunshot.  In the brief flash of light she saw the figure approaching her.

            It was not her mother.  It was something else.

            A scream rose up in Kamalei's throat but she didn't have the chance to release it.  Kamalei was yanked up from the ground like a ragdoll.

            “I've got you!”  Ona said, throwing her daughter over her shoulder.  There was a break in Ona's voice.

            Even as a child, Kamalei recognized that break as fear.

            Ona turned the other way and ran.  Facing behind, Kamalei saw the figure, still as stone.  Watching her.  Wanting her.  Lighting flashed again, and she vanished.

            Ona was finding it nearly impossible to move on her sprained ankle.  To make matters worse, the flooding was past her knees and she was forced to wade.  Ona did not believe it possible, but the rain was falling even heavier.  Ona called repeatedly for help to no avail.  It was obvious that no one was coming.  Not in a storm this magnitude.  If they didn't get back up to the trail they were going to drown. 

            Ona started to climb, but she might as well have tried to sprout wings and fly.  She couldn't use her sprained leg, Kamalei was dead weight, the wet slope was impossible to grip, and the crashing rain refused to yield.  For every inch she gained the floodwater followed suit. 

            Yet still she climbed.  She persevered.  And they made it back to the apex of the slope.  The floodwater raged.  Only inches remained before it spilled beyond the gulch, but it was raising slower now in the wider space.  Aching and shivering, Ona collapsed to her knees.  Kamalei loosened her grip on her mother's neck and slid softly to the ground.

            Ona saw it for only a fraction of a second.  Enough time to comprehend, but not enough to react.  A gray hand rose up from the surface of the water.  Long fingers latched onto Kamalei's leg, and she was pulled into the deep.

            Ona called out, but there was no one to hear her.  Kamalei was gone.

 

 

            Sergeant Duke Lukela directed traffic past a blockade of HPD blue and whites, a fire truck, and an ambulance.  Last night's light rain shower broke most of the heat and humidity of the previous day, but even in the early morning the island heat was rising.  He daydreamt of an ice coffee to wake him up and cool him off, but Duke was a veteran of the HPD and too professional to let it distract from his assignment. 

            Without warning, a black Chevy Impala stopped in traffic right next to him.  The driver's side window rolled down and a scruffy-looking male poked his head out, smiling.

            “Hey, there officer,” said the driver with a gruff voice.   “We heard you got yerselves a case.  I think we might be able to assist.”

            Duke ducked down to peer in to the vehicle and indeed saw a second male in the passenger seat, with longer, darker hair.  The passenger waved to him. 

            The news of the death had not been released to the public yet, but he assumed these two had a source of some kind.  Duke's eyes canvassed the interior of the vehicle.  A hula girl bobble- not unusual for a pair of haoles; discarded fast food wrappers and paper soft drink cups; and just as he expected: a police blotter.

            Duke rolled his eyes.   They always came out for the big cases.  Weirdos that want their fifteen seconds of fame by dramatizing a death.  Or worse, get off on corpses.  They were as bad as criminals in his book.  “Go on outta here, before I hold ya fer obstruction.”  He jerked his head in the direction of traffic, a visual aid to his message in case it wasn't clear enough.

            The passenger interjected.  “Sir, we really think we-”

            “Go!” demanded Duke.  He was louder than he thought he had been, and others were now looking in their direction.  He had his hand on his holster, which did not go unnoticed by the two men in the Chevy.  They did not seem unnerved by it, though they did not seem to like the attention from the bystanders.

            The driver put his hands up in a defensive gesture.  “Don't have to tell us twice.”

            “I already have,” replied Duke sharply.

            “Going,” said the driver sarcastically as he shifted the Chevy into drive.  “See, going.”

            And to Duke's relief, the rumbling car drove off.

            “Nice car, though,” he said to himself.

            Then, as if it was a gift from the car gods above, another black Chevrolet rolled up to Duke.  This one was familiar, a Camaro, and he let it pull through to line up in the blockade.  The doors opened and two males stepped out.  The first was tall, trim, and muscular, clean shaven with short-cropped black hair.

            “Commander,” greeted Duke.

            “Seargeant,” responded Steve McGarrett amiably.  Duke was a veteran of the Hawaii Police Department and Steve a standout of the United States Navy Reser.  While their words were brief the acknowledgement implied a great deal of mutual respect.

            The second was shorter, fit but with poor posture.  He ran his hand through his slicked-back, dirty blond hair in an obvious show of discontent and irritation.  He was in a bad mood, though that failed to surprise the sergeant.  He acknowledged Duke but turned his attention back to Steve. 

            Commander Steve McGarrett and Detective Danny Williams were the co-captains of an elite HPD task force called Hawaii Five-O.  As per usual, they were arguing. 

            “It's bad enough I have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to see your ugly mug, I don't need you scheduling my day for me,” said Danny in a fit of exasperation.

            Steve looked like he was being accused of murder.  “I don't see what you're so mad about, I thought you wanted to spend the weekend with Gracie.”

            “Of course I do!” said Danny incredulously.  “But not at a possible murder scene!”

            “It's the Wahiawa Botanical Gardens.  She'll love it,” said Steve, trying to convince his partner. 

            “Plenty to love here,” mocked Danny.  “Ooh, bugs!  And dirt!  Boy I love dirt.  And just over the horizon, dead bodies!  Dead bodies everywhere!  It's just like Chuck E. Cheese!”

            “What's Chuck E. Cheese?” asked Steve, confused.

            Danny stared at Steve open-mouthed.  “Was your childhood completely joyless?  Don't answer that, I don't really care.”

            They were starting to attract some unwanted attention. 

            “Look,” said Steve in a reconciliatory tone, “Gracie can enjoy the park with you, and if I need you for anything you can just walk back over to the crime scene.”

            “Great, now I'm your call boy,” retorted Danny.

            Danny's phone rang. 

            “It's Grace,” Danny said pointedly.

            “Well answer it,” said Steve.

            Danny threw his hands in the air.  “ Of course i'm going to answer it!  I don't need you to tell me to answer it.”

            “Then just answer it,” said Steve impatiently.

            “That,” replied Danny, “is what I am doing.” 

            Danny pressed a button on his phone and put it to his ear, glaring at Steve the whole time.  “Hey, Monkey,” he said into his phone playfully.  “Yeah, I know Uncle Steve said that, but...” Danny listened for a minute.  An expression of pain shot across his face.  “Of course, Monkey.  I'll see you then.  Love you.”

            Danny ended the call then turned slowly towards Steve.

            “You told her she could bring a friend?”

            “So?” said Steve defensively.  “She'll have more fun that way.  To be honest, you're kind of a buzzkill.”

            Danny shook his head.  “I happen to be a very fun person.  I'm spontaneous.  I'm creative.  I know how to have fun.  Duke, tell him.”

            Duke took a step back.  “Don't bring me into this.”

            “Look,” said Steve,  “If you want to tell Gracie that she can't bring her friend after already telling her yes, go right ahead.  But do you really want to break your daughter's trust?”

            Danny jabbed a finger at Steve.  “I hate you so very much.  I want you to know, from deep down in my heart, I hate you.”

            “You don't hate me.”

            “I really do.  You just totally suck.”  Danny turned and walked off the road into a wall of trees.

            Steve sighed.  From his periphery her saw fellow Five-O member Kono Kalakaua questioning a dark-hared woman in the back of the ambulance.  The woman was wrapped in a heavy blanket and had her ankle and foot in binding.  She looked bereaved.  Kona saw Steve and nodded.  This was going to be a long morning.

 

 

            The Chevy Impala pulled around the corner to the next street.  Edging along the outskirts of the botanical garden, the scruffy, dirty blonde driver parked on the side of the road between two palm trees.  He backed in and adjusted the nose of the Impala so that if necessary he and his passenger could make a quick exit. 

            “They've got quite a big barricade out there,” said the dark-haired passenger nonchalantly. 

            The driver did not respond immediately. He was watching oncoming traffic. In addition to the typical Saturday morning bustle there was a trickle of camera vans with bold messages on the sides, such as “Eyewitness News” or “We break Hawaii stories first.”  There were even vans from a couple outlets he was familiar with from watching television at motels during many of his cross-country commutes.  But even more numerous than the news vans were camera- toting motorcycle paparazzi eager to make a quick buck off gruesome tragedy. 

            Two thoughts ran through the driver's head as he turned off the ignition to the Impala.  The first thought was that paparazzi would be great disguises at a moment like this.  Of course he was not carrying the proper equipment to make it convincing.  He also considered that all of the paparazzi were riding Japanese makes and he wouldn't be caught dead on anything other than a Harley.  Considering these factors he dismissed that thought almost immediately. 

            His second thought was of his father.  His father was long gone and his memory of his face was getting less clear as time wore on.  But the stories his father told him were ingrained in his mind like mental tattoos.  His father had come to these very gardens many years ago on one of his many “business trips.”  It was also one of his very few true failures.  Now that the son was carrying on the “family business” it would seem that destiny intended for him to finish what his father couldn't. 

            But there was one thing that was different this time.  Although his father worked alone his son did not.  His father had another son, and he was sitting in the passenger seat.  

            Without answering his younger brother the driver stepped out of the vehicle.  His younger brother had already gotten out and was leaning on the rear end of the Impala.  The faint wind rippled the deep vee that hung over his lean muscles. He was replacing his phone in the back pocket of his Levis.

            “Who're you talking to?” asked the older brother curiously.

            “Oh, just sending Cass some vacation photos to his phone.”

            “You know he doesn't know how to use his phone, right?” replied the older brother.  He stepped around the car and popped open the trunk.  “Besides, this isn't a vacation.  This is a hunt.”

            At first glance the inside of the trunk was unassuming. Upon closer inspection a number of runes and religious markings adorned the interior.  Underneath the blankets and Carhartt jackets and the standard assortment of car maintenance items was a broad selection of weapons stowed in the wheel well.  There were blades and crossbows coated in silver. There were poisons and small explosives.  There were guns of every kind and ammunition to match, all marked with the same symbols that were painted on the inside of the trunk.  Each of the brothers took identical handguns.  They both loaded the firearms before tucking them into their belts.   

            Now sufficiently armed, the older brother opened up the back seat and pulled out a white dress shirt and a plain black tie.  He took off his plaid shirt and swapped it out for the white shirt and tie.  He noticed that his younger brother was not changing. 

            “Are you gonna put on the monkey suit or not?” he asked his younger brother. 

            The younger brother scratched at his thin beard while looking at the pressed suit and tie intended for him. He glanced briefly at his v- neck tee before responding with “It's a little bit humid for that don't you think?” 

            The older brother simply shrugged and fastened his tie.  “Whatever.  Let's rock n' roll.” 

            The two stepped deftly through the foliage.  They stayed off the trail to avoid being seen, but also to look for signs of anything that might clue them in to what they were getting themselves involved in.  Neither one spoke.  They communicated with experience alone.  The two had grown up together and were used to having each other's backs.  They could tell simply by instinct and body language what the other was thinking. 

            The bustle of first responders, crime scene investigators, and beat cops grew louder as the brothers continued on through the thicket.  Two male officers in particular were being louder than the rest.  They were apparently arguing about Chuck E. Cheese.

            “At least they've got their priorities in order,” whispered the younger brother sarcastically.

            The older brother scoffed.  “These shit-for-brains don't have a clue what they're dealing with.”

            White rays of hot light broke through the leaves of the trees as they came closer to a walking trail.  They stayed off the trail, walking parallel but still far enough away that they were concealed.    They kept a particular eye out for the officer that was directing traffic.  He could potentially ID them and draw attention to them.

            Dozens of cameras flashed blue light like exploding synapses across the vast crime scene which extended past the trail and back into the green.  They had to be careful- they did not want to get caught in a photograph.

            They were siding up along an ambulance and decided to take cover while they observed the investigators.  The cockpit of the ambulance was unmanned but there was a stunning Hawaiian woman standing at the back speaking to someone unseen inside the ambulance.  Her hair was wind-blown and wet.  A bikini-top was partially visible beneath her thin tee.  The older brother had a strong feeling she spent the morning on the ocean waves before her surf was interrupted by a call to action.

            “Is there anything at all you can remember about the lady who attacked your daughter?  Any defining marks?  Scars, tattoos, piercings?  Ethnicity?  Style of dress?” asked the Hawaiian woman.  There was a comforting quality to her voice that could have tempered a wild beast but it was lined by a serious edge.  No doubt this woman was one of the officers on the case.  She must have gotten a non-verbal answer because she kept on speaking.  “Here's my card. Again, I'm officer Kalakaua, Five-O.  The officer in charge of this investigation is Commander McGarrett.  If you remember anything, no matter how trivial, let us know. Don't worry, ma'am-”

            _CRIK_.  A twig broke under one of the brother's feet.

            Officer Kalakaua looked around the side of the ambulance.  Her eyes were sharp- she was a sniper for her task force- and she scanned for the source of the noise.  “-We'll catch them,” she finished.  But she saw nothing. 

            Another officer, this one also a clear native Hawaiian, strode over in the direction of the Officer Kalakaua.  He had thin eyes and a thin mouth with an aqualine nose, high, cut cheekbones that still managed to be soft as opposed to angular, and a thick mane of black hair.  His body was impressively lean and taught. 

            “Great,” muttered Dean. “Every cop here also happens to be a supermodel, too.”

            “Hey, coz!” the male called to Officer Kalakaua.

            Kalakaua's attention was averted.

            “You don't look yourself today,” asked the man, his goofy grin washing away to a look of concern as he approached.  He gave a warm smile to the woman in the ambulance before turning back to Officer Kalakaua with a whisper.  “Something wrong?”

            Officer Kalakaua gave a weak laugh.  “You mean besides another violent, meaningless death.  This time of a child?”

            The expression on the man's face transformed again, this time to one of deep understanding.

            “Sorry, Chin,” said Kalakaua.  “I just don't like to be here.  Not since-”

            “Not since Emily?” inquired Chin.

            Officer Kalakaua, having been confident and in full control only a moment before, visibly withdrew.  “Let's just get this case over with, okay.  I don't want to lose this one,” she said.  “I can't.”

            Officer Kalakaua followed the man away from the ambulance and down the trail. 

            When the two were gone the brothers stepped out from the brush to the back of the ambulance.  The rear doors were wide open and a woman was sitting on the edge of a stretcher, her feet together on the rear bumper.  One foot was wrapped heavily up past the ankle.  Her hands lay shaking in her lap.

            Beyond the sweat and dirt and mud and tears and the bangs that clung to her forehead was a face all too familiar to the two brothers.  Sure, the eyes and the nose and the mouth were different.  But the expression was always the same.  An expression that mingled shock and loss and confusion.  And of wild terror.  It was the face of somone confronted with a terrible and deadly truth- a nightmare birthed into vivid and violent life, and only death was left in it's wake.

            It was a face the two had worn themselves long ago.

            The woman looked at them. She was beyond desperation.  “What more do you want?” she asked with tears clotting her eyes.  “I've answered all of your damn questions.  It doesn't matter.  You all believe I did it, anyway.  That I killed my precious daughter.  God, Kamalei,” she whimpered.

            The younger brother stepped forward.  He put his hands on her shaking ones.  “We aren't with them.  Just tell us what you really saw.”

            “It's not real.  Please tell me it's not real,” she pleaded in a whisper.

            The older brother stepped forward now.  His face was grim.  “You saw her, didn't you?”

 

 

            Steve followed Danny through the forest, following a trail of yellow tape that steadily increased in altitude.  As they hiked to the plateau the air became cooler.  Eventually they came to a steep slope.  The firefighters had already set a pair of extendable ladders down the slope to the bottom of a narrow gulch.  Instead of taking both ladders down they took turns down one, leaving the other open in case someone needed to come up.  Steve insisted on going first.

            At the bottom of the gulch they met up with another familiar face.

            “Morning, boys,” said Doctor Max Bergman.  Max was the Chief Medical Examiner for HPD.  His scientific skills were often critical in Five-O's investigations.  Despite Max's quirks he was one of the most valuable assets Five-O had access to.  Usually upbeat, Max was uncharacteristically dour this day.

            “Hey!” came a voice from behind them.  Kono was jogging over to them from the ladders.  Fellow Five-O partner Chin Ho Kelly was right behind her.  “Don't start without us, Max.”

            Steve and Danny greeted Kono and Chin.

            “Alright, Max,” said Steve.  “Tell us what we're dealing with.”

            Max nodded affirmative and knelt down.  At his feet was a bodybag.  It was a small one, for a child.  He unzipped it.  A face like a sleeping cherub was exposed, except it was pale and purple and lifeless.  He was used to dead bodies.  He spent most of his work days in a cadaver lab.  This one, however, seemed to affect him more than usual.  It was difficult for him to speak the words his mind was formulating. 

            “Kamalei Okana.  Eight years old.  Goes to school down the street at Wahiawa Elementary School.  Signs of death are consistent with drowning, but it's too early to tell.”  With a pointer he guided the attention of his audience along the body.  “There are numerous lacerations and contusions all over the body, including a particularly bad hit on the temple.  They happened so close to the TOD that it is difficult to say with certainty, but I think we can confidently say that they occurred before the fatality.”

            There was a silence as everyone contemplated the last word.

            Fatality.  A little girl had died.

            Max continued his demonstration, this time pointing at the slope.  “What likely happened is that the vic tumbled down the wall of the gulch, rolling off of the rocks and roots.”

            Kono spoke up.  Her tone was straightforward and factual, but not without compassion.  “That would match up with the mother's story.”

            “Mother?” asked Danny.

            “Ona Okana.  She was the woman I was speaking to in the ambulance.  According to her, she and the vic were walking along the trail.  The vic spotted something in the woods, ran after it, and fell down the gulch.”

            “Let me guess,” interrupted Steve.  “The mom goes after the kid, breaks her ankle coming down the hill.”

            “It's only a sprain, but yeah,” replied Kono.  “Apparently, the gulch flooded quickly.  Ona managed to carry the vic back up to the top but then the vic got pulled back into the flood by someone.  Personally, I don't believe it.”

            “I agree,” said Chin.  “First of all, this gulch is drained.”  He spread his arms over the scene.  Beyond some puddles and some wet sand there was hardly any evidence it had rained at all, let alone flooded to the top of the gulch.  “Nor is there any evidence that there was any other living thing in this gulch last night to pull her in.”

            Steve crossed his arms in contemplation.  “Are you saying you believe the mother murdered her own kid?”

            Chin shook his head.  “I'm not sure.  The girl could have drowned accidentally in an inch of water.  There isn't any reliable heel marks or drag marks- if there was a flash flood it washed those away.  And if the mother did commit the murder, then why not just tell us it was an accident?  Why the ghost story?”

            “Probably doesn't think she'd get away with the accident story, or she's just a loon,” posited Danny.

            Steve interrupted again.  “If she was intentionally drowned, that means that she was either thrown in or held under the water from above.  If it is murder and not an accidental death she's our only suspect so far.  Nobody else was walking the base of the gulch.”

            “Judging by the amount of fluid in her body, the lividity of her face and neck, and the fact that there is no foam in her nostrils or mouth, we can add credence to the theory that she tumbled down the gulch, concussed her head, and was submerged,” said Max.  “But her injuries indicate she was submerged from below.”  He used his pointer to turn their attention to her ankle.  “These are hand marks indicating that she was pulled by the leg.  And once we check I am sure we will find that these bruises do not correllate with Ms. Okana's handprint, nor will any of her scratches or bruises indicate dragging across the ground.” 

            “Let's take a step back,” said Steve to the whole team.  “Kono, the mother said someone pulled the vic back down into the water, right?”

            Kono shrugged.  “Like I said, I don't believe it.”

            “Duly noted,” Steve replied.  “But if they didn't walk the gulch maybe they swam it.  Did the mother say who pulled her?”

            Kono shook her head.  “It wasn't someone she recognized.  And it was too dark and rainy to get a good look.  The only description she could give was adult female with long hair.”

            “Wonderful,” said Danny under a paper-thin veil of sarcasm.  “Really narrows it down for us.”

            Max took a deep breath.  “There's one more thing I found that you should know about.  There are skin cells and residue from that hand.”

            “Great!” said Danny. “Then you do your science stuff, figure out whose DNA that is, and bam, smoking gun.  We catch the killer.”

            “Not so simple, Detective,” said Max.  “This skin is seriously necrotic.  Whoever it belongs to has been dead for decades.”

            Five-O was silent for several seconds as they processed Max's remark.  It was Steve who finally broke the silence.

            “Alright, Max,” said Steve with an edge of irritation.  “Just so I've got this right, a dead person rose up from an instantaneous flood and pulled this kid down in. Furthermore we have no concrete evidence that this body or flood was ever here.  Tell me if I missed something.  Second coming of Jesus?  Aliens living among us?  Giant monsters attacking Tokyo?”

            Max shrank back.  “All I can do is give you my observations, Commander McGarrett.  I'm sorry, this is the best I have right now.”

            “Come on, Max,” said Steve, now acting rather animatedly.  “A dead woman drowning kids in the botanical gardens?  That's a ghost story for kids!  My dad told it to me when I was five!”

            “There are things in this world that can only be described as supernatural,” conceded Danny.

            “Really Danny?” scolded Steve.  “Are you joking?”

            “Did someone say supernatural?” asked a gruff voice from behind.  The two brothers from the black Chevy Impala were trudging over to their location.  They had not come down the ladders.  In fact, they came down the adjacent slope, suggesting that they had snuck past the police barricade.

            Steve stepped forward confrontationally.  “This is an active crime scene.  Leave before I have you forcibly detained.”

            “You're pretty gung-ho, there Captain America,” retorted the older brother.   He was sizing the Commander up in case there was a fight.

            “Just so you know, I don't have to read you your Miranda Rights,” replied Steve, primed for a conflict.  Danny, Kono, and Chin stepped forward to back him up.

            “Hold on,” said the second of the two as he stepped between them.  “I think we are getting off on the wrong foot.”  He held out a badge emblazoned with the letters “FBI” and the other followed suit.  “I'm Agent Brian Tyler, this is agent Keith Power.  We are here to investigate an unusual death.”

            Danny pinched his brow.  “This day just keeps getting better.  Now the FBI wants to tie us up in red tape.”

            Steve laughed.  “No way these guys are FBI.  Absolutely not,  I don't believe it for a second.”

            “Based on what evidence?” asked Danny, exasperated.  “You're just being a contrarian.”  He turned to the agents.  “Don't mind him, he's a moron.”

            “Wait a minute!” exclaimed Chin.  “Those are fake badges!”

            Suddenly, the agents had four guns drawn on them.  With nowhere to run, they raised their hands in surrender.

            The older agent shook his head.  “Well, damn.”

           

 

            Steve and Danny were the last two to return to HPD headquarters from the crime scene.  Although they had jurisdiction over all of the Hawaiian islands Five-Oh called Oahu home, the same island that contained the Wahiawa crime scene.  Their return drive in Danny's Camaro, which Danny begrudgingly allowed Steve to operate, was a short one.  For Danny it felt infinitely longer as his bickering with Steve had yet to yield.  Even as they proceeded into the building their petty argument followed them like a shadow.

            “You called me a moron,” repeated Steve as if accusing a felon in court.

            Danny scoffed sarcastically.  “As an officer of the law I am bound to speak the truth.  The truth is you are a moron.”

            “I'm not a moron,” Steve insisted.  “I was right! They weren't FBI!”

            “I already conceded you were right!” replied Danny defensively.  “But I also concede you are a moron.  You're all muscle, no brains.”

            “Brain is a muscle, Williams!” Steve shot back.  He quickly regained composure.  “This argument is stupid.”

            “Moronic, even,” Danny chimed in.

            Steve was fuming, but did not act on his anger.  He was deliberate.  “The point, Danny, is that you undermine my authority when you insult me in front of the people we are arresting.”

            Danny's arms flew up as they passed the reception desk.  “Are you kidding me? You must be kidding me.”  He turned back to the befuddled secretary.  “Is he kidding me?” 

            The secretary managed a weak shrug.  Danny turned back to Steve.  “I undermine your authority?  You undermine my authority!  Every time you drive my car! MY car!”

            “What?” defended Steve.  “I'm a better driver.”

            Danny looked Steve in the eye.  “I'm going to kill you in your sleep.  Probably tonight.”

            “Isn't Gracie staying with you tonight?”

            “Then tomorrow night, I don't know.  Whenever it's convenient, I will kill you in your sleep.”

            Danny passed through the double doors into Five-Oh's war room.

            “I'm not a moron,” said Steve quietly to himself as he followed a step behind his partner.

            Detective Lieutenant Kelly was hunched over a glass table in the center of the war room flicking fluorescent images across the surface.  He flicked a pair back and they projected themselves in mid-air above the table.  Kono stood next to Chin with her arms crossed, intently studying the two images.  They were stills of the two would-be federal agents that they apprehended earlier that morning.

            “Took you two long enough,” greeted Kono.  “Take the scenic route?”

            Danny glowered.  “Max has the body.  CSU is still on site, but hope is slim.  Unless we hear back from either with something new it looks like this case is dead in the water.  No pun intended, of course.”

            “Which is why coz and I decided to turn our attention to the Federal Bureau of Impersonation,” said Kono.

            Steve stepped forward, circling around the table next to Detective Kelly.  “All right, Chin.  What did you find out about these two haoles?”

            “Enough to give us a start.  But don't give me the credit.  Without Jerry I'd be empty-handed right now.”  Chin pointed to the still of “Keith Power,” the sandy-haired agent.  “Dean Winchester.  Early-to-mid thirties.  Spent time at a boys' home for stealing peanut butter and bread, but otherwise a clean record.  I contacted the boys' home.  They said Dean was a good kid that caught a bad break but kept his nose out of trouble.”  He pointed to the second still, showing “Brian Tyler.”  “Samuel Winchester, younger brother.  Late twenties to early thirties.  Formerly a law school student.  Not even a parking ticket.  I don't have addresses for either one, but I doubt they've ever been off the mainland.  They definitely aren't natives.”

            Danny looked skeptical.  “These guys don't sound like criminals or killers to me.”

            “I agree,” said Steve.  “Any idea what motive they would have for interfering in an investigation?  Or more specifically this investigation?”

            Chin flicked some more images up to be projected.  The images showed a vast array of persons and deaths.  “I haven't found any link between the Winchester brothers and the vic.  However...”  Chin paused for a moment.  He seemed to be collecting his thoughts.  “Their parents, John and Mary Winchester, both had seperate unresolved deaths.  So did Jessica Moore, Sam's ex-girlfriend who died about the time Sam dropped out of law school.  While they cannot be concretely connected to anything, the list of mysterious deaths these two are associated with is very, very long.”

            All four officers contemplated the two men for several seconds.  This would not be the open-and-shut case they were hoping for.  The investigation was still in its beginning stages, but already it seemed like the answers were slipping through their fingers.

            Steve was the first to speak.  “It looks like we will just have to ask them.  Kono, you and I are heading to Interrogation One.  We're going to start with the older brother.  He seems like the leader.  Let's see how well he follows.”

            Kono nodded affirmative.  “Let's get to it then.”

            Steve and Kono exited the war room briskly, eager to get to work. 

            Danny thought for a moment, then turned to Chin, who was reviewing the images he had brought up.  “Chin, you said Jerry found all of this information, right?”

            “Yeah.  Why?” asked Chin, momentarily pulled from his focus.

            “But you said you couldn't find anything.  How did Jerry know what to look for?”

            Chin mused.  “I don't know.  He got that crazy conspiracy look of his and bulldozed his way to his laptop.  Something definitely got his gears turning, though.”

            Danny turned his head back and forth, scanning the Five-O headquarters for signs of life.  “Do you know where he went?”

 

 

            Jerry Ortega was used to people disregarding him.  Unfit, unkempt, and occasionally paranoid, he was relegated to the outskirts of social society.  To most, he was a conspiracy nut.  Even the members of Hawaii Five-O, whom he frequently assisted and considered as friends, often found him unbelievable.  And while Jerry believed in diligent research and fact-checking and had repeatedly proven himself to be a capable detective he was still unable to convince them of many of his claims.  The Five-O officer badge that he wanted so dearly was routinely denied to him.

            This time would not be different.  McGarrett and Williams and Kalakaua and even his high school friend Chin Ho Kelly would not believe him.  Hell, he was not sure that he believed himself.  The evidence led to something impossible.  Something deadly.

            And it was up to him, the fat, slovenly, shut-in loser to save them.

            Jerry's courage failed him, but only for a moment.  He recalled the unnatural details of the case.  They were eerily similar to a case from fifteen years previously, an unresolved death in the Wahiawa  Gardens of a young girl, further complicated by the appearance of a so-called “demon hunter.”  At first, it was just a funny little idea in his head.  A little bit of humor in all the terror.  Then he saw Kono, Chin, and Duke lead the two perps towards holding.  Every minute detail of their appearances matched the canon.  Even down to the faint scar where the Mark of Cain had been burned into Dean's arm.  The terror of his realization crept up his back and throat again but he swallowed it.

            “Where is it!” he yelled in desperation.  Dozens of ratty cardboard boxes were piled in the corner of the basement, each one filled to capacity with books with all levels of wear and tear.  Jerry dug through them furiously.  A trail of dusty paperbacks lay in his wake.

            At last he came across a well-worn novel.  A momentary surge of relief coursed through him as he inspected the book.  The pages were browned, brittle, and dog-eared.  The cover was bent and hung precariously from the cracked binding, but Jerry could read it as clearly as the day he bought it.

            'Supernatural,' by Carver Edlund.

 

 

            Dean Winchester sat in the metal chair of the interrogation room looking much too comfortable among the bare concrete.  The only noise in the room was the faint, flickering light bulb lightly buzzing in a socket above him, though he bobbed his head rythmically to a tune in his head while he mouthed the lyrics to Taylor Dane's “Tell it to My Heart.” 

            Kono and Steve stepped inside and Steve closed the heavy metal door behind him.  It sealed shut with a thud.

            “Nice utility closet you've got here,” said Dean appraisingly.  “Very spacious.”

            Neither Steve nor Kono gave Dean a response, though Dean could see by the look on Kono's face that she had a clever retort loaded in the barrel that she could barely hold herself from firing off.  He turned his attention to her.

            “Is this a good cop, bad cop kind of thing?  If so, I really hope you play bad cop,” Dean said with a grin.

            Steve took lead before Kono could respond.  “Before we get started,  I really need to know something,” he said.  “What would ever make you think that you could pull the wool over our eyes like that?  Ya know, Detective Kelly has a CI that used to make fake badges for a local gang.  You were never going to get past him with that old trick.”  Steve gestured off-handedly at Kono.  “Hell, Officer Kalakaua and I have used fake badges when undercover in the past  That was brazen and stupid.”

            Dean blinked.  “Sorry, man.  You lost me at 'Before we get started.'”

            Steve laughed incredulously.  “Okay, dirtbag.  I'm sorry, I meant to say Dean Winchester.”  Steve let the name hang in the air a moment to let his perp absorb it.  Five-O had to do some serious digging just to get names for the two men they took into custody.  The two had experience covering their tracks.  Steve knew Dean's name, but not much else.  With a little bit of luck they could make him believe they knew more than they did. And hopefully make him nervous.  “Question one.  How do you know Kamalei Okana and/ or Ona Okana?”

            Dean cringed.  “Dirtbag? Really, Seargeant Slaughter?  Who says that?”

            “Answer the question, Winchester.”

            Dean shook his head nonchalantly.  “Never heard of either of them.”

            Steve pulled out photos of both and forced them into Dean's hands.  “What about now?”

            Dean glanced at the photos.  “Cute kid, but I've never seen them either.”  He leaned towards Kono.  “Do you always wear shorts that short?  I approve immensely.”

            Steve clasped Dean's jaw and turned his attention back to him.  Kono took the opening to move behind Dean, out of his field of view.

            “There is a dead child.  There are no suspects other than you and your brother, who interfered with the investigation of her death by impersonating officers of the FBI.  Your situation right now, frankly, it sucks.  Even if you aren't connected to the murder I can still hold you for obstruction and impersonating an officer of the law.  And with all of those unresolved deaths you and your brother are connected to any judge would be happy to put you away for the rest of your natural life.  Right now,  I'm your only hope of walking away from this a free man.  Pay attention, Winchester,” insisted Steve.  “Before I make things hard for you.”

            Dean met Steve's steely gaze with one of his own.  The tension between the nearly solidified in the air.

            Steve released his grip and stood up straight.  Unlike most interrogation rooms there was no table to create a protective barrier between the interrogator and the one being interrogated.  There was no comforting, soft light.  Steve and Kono did not sit in chairs to speak with Dean on an equal level.  In this room they were not equals.  They stood tall over him, exerting every bit of power they could.

            “Normally,” continued Steve,  “I'd ask you who you were working for.  But you don't really strike me as the kind of guy who likes to take orders.”

            Dean nodded.  “Finally, you get something right.”

            Steve ignored the comment.  “Which begs the question, what is your motivation for interfering with the investigation?  I'm thinking two things.  One, and this is pretty likely, you've got some kind of personal connection to this crime.”

            For the second time that day Dean's mind strayed to his memory of his father.  He forced the thought away.

            But Steve noticed the recognition flashing across Dean's eyes.  He jumped at it.

            “Do you want to know how we figured out who you were?” asked Steve baitingly.  “I think you've already figured it out.”

            Dean's expression was serious and focused now.

            Steve leaned in, smirking.  “Funny, I wouldn't figure you for a daddy's boy.”

            Dean headbutted Steve ferociously.  There was a violent crack.  Dark blood spattered Steve's nostrils and lips.  Speckles of Steves's blood trickled down Dean's face.

            Steve swore under his breath, stepping into the corner and tipping his head back to quell the flow of blood.  Kono pulled a cloth from her pocket and handed it to Steve, who took it graciously.

            Dean caught a glimpse of Kono's expression.  Something in the direction of this conversation was making her uncomfortable.

            Steve regained his composure.  He looked briefly at Kono before continuing.  She must have made a gesture to him, because he nodded to her before speaking to Dean.

            “There is a cold case from several years ago, a girl who disappeared mysteriously at the Wahiawa Botanical Gardens.  A witness claimed she saw a ghost pull her in to the water.  There was quite a bit of media attention.  It attracted a man named John Winchester, who interfered in the investigation.  When brought in for questioning, he said he was a demon hunter.  Sound familiar?”

            Dean said nothing.

            “Now, a girl is dead.  Same spot, similar story.  And John Winchester's sons are interfering with this investigation, too.  Helluva coincidence, don't you think?”

            Dean still said nothing.

            “That leads me to my second theory,” continued Steve, “that you are responsible for Kamalei Okana's death and are trying to cover it up.”

            Dean rolled his eyes and sniggered. “Look, GI Joe, whatever you think I'm up to, you're wrong,” replied Dean.  “There's something in those botanical gardens that killed that both of those girls and it's still out there.  You're wasting your time and mine.”

            Kono interjected.  “Then tell us what's in those gardens.”

            Dean turned as much as he could towards Kono.  “You already know.  The mom told you.  Or weren't you listening?”

            Kono was unfazed.  Her response was casual.  “The mother was in a state of panic and shock and there were several factors that prevented her from clearly seeing the events of the girls' death.  She is hardly a reliable witness.”

            “If you know so much,” said Steve coldly, “ why don't you educate us.  How was Kamalei really killed?”

            Dean's head lolled.  “I don't know for certain.  Not yet.”

            “Well then, you're not much help,” Steve replied.  So far he had failed to glean anything from Dean.  If he didn't change tac he would lose any leverage he still had.  “Tell me why you and your brother Samuel were impersonating federal agents.”

            “Method acting,” Dean replied without hesitation.  “I used to be on Days of Our Lives, y'know.  Sammy wants to follow in my footsteps.  Crazy kid,” he chuckled.  “Big dreams.”

            Steve had lost control of the conversation.  In fact, he doubt he ever had it.  “Kono,” said Steve as he turned away from Dean.

            Kono stepped around in front of Dean, who was still seated in the metal chair.  She had a sickly sweet smile on her face.  In one swift, hard motion she kicked Dean dead center in the chest.  He landed flat on his back, the metal chair falling with him.  Kono knelt on his chest.

            “This is kind of hot,” said Dean as he struggled for breath.

            “We can play this two ways,” said Kono.  “Either you tell us what we want, or your little brother gets to come in and play too.”  She started examining her fingernails as if bored by the conversation.  “Maybe he will crack.  Maybe he isn't as loyal to you as you thought and he rolls.  Either way, right now I'm much more inclined to cut him a deal over you.  So what's it gonna be, cowboy?”

            Dean met her gaze.  “Sam will never talk.”

            Steve opened the door.  Bright light flooded in from the hallway.  “Looks like you've made your choice.  Kono,” he said.

            Kono got off of Dean's chest and followed Steve out the door.

            Dean yelled at them defiantly.  “Sam will never talk!”

           

 

            “You talked!” gasped Dean in disbelief. 

            Sam and Dean were back in holding together.  Dean had a look on his face that straddled the point between confused, betrayed, and slapped by a rubber chicken.

            “I told them the truth,” Sam said.  “I doubt they'll believe us, but we can't do anything while we are locked up here.  I had to at least try.”

            Dean slumped down to the ground.  “I knew we should'nt have gone on vacation.  Only bad things happen on vacations.”

 

            Steve, Danny, Chin, and Kono were once again huddled around the table console in the war room.  Steve was relaying the results of their interrogations.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Danny while gesturing wildly with his hands.  “These two buffoons think we are going to believe that they are demon hunters and that a monster killed our vic?  Do they really think we're that dumb?”

            Suddenly Jerry broke through the double doors at the limp remains of a sprint, sweating and heaving with the novel held high in the air.  “You're not going to believe this, but the Winchester brothers are demon hunters and I think a monster killed our vic!”

            Steve intercepted Jerry before he got to the huddle.  “Jerry, thank you for finding the identities of our guys, but this is still a serious investigation.”

            Jerry held his hands out defensively.  “I know, Steve, I know.  But it's all here in this book.  In fact, there's a whole series of them.”  He handed the tattered novel to the Commander.

            “Supernatural?” read Steve out loud.  “There's a shirtless dude with long hair on the cover of this.  Jerry, we don't have time for this.”  He tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin.

            “No!”  Jerry hobbled over and dug through the bin.  He pulled the book back out, shaking off drops of a disposed iced coffee.  “You don't understand!  Those two are here to help!”

            “Jerry!”  Steve was tipping into fury now.  “Enough.  This is not one of your silly little conspiracy theories.  This is not some cheap fan-fiction book come to life.  Those two are dangerous.  They're possibly serial killers.  And you are going to let this fantasy of yours go right now or you are off this case.  Do you understand me?”

            Jerry hesitated.  He couldn't figure out how to get through to the Commander.  The rest of Five-O was looking on, their faces unreadable.

            “I said do you understand me?!”

            Jerry sunk down.  “Yes.  I really do.”

            Steve sighed.  He was disappointed, but he still wanted Jerry's skills.  On a case this weird he needed somone thinking outside the box.  Just not too far out of the box.  “Okay, new game plan.    Chin, follow up with CSU.  I want a definite COD and TOD for the vic.  I want every picture, every piece of evidence, every note made on the crime scene.  And I want to know how in the hell those two managed to casually stroll past our police blockade.”

            Chin didn't need to be told twice.  He immediately turned to his office and had Doctor Max Bergman from forensics on the line before he reached the door.

            Steve turned to Kono.  “Time for the real detective work.  Comb over Ona Okana's financials and phone records.  The usual.  Patterns, anything out of the ordinary.  Maybe the family has enemies or was involved in something dirty.  I'm going to follow up with her in person.”

            Kono nodded.  “I took pretty copious notes the first time I interviewed her.  I would still consider her a suspect, so take my notes with you.  You can make sure her story hasn't changed.” 

            Danny spoke up.  “It's possible that the Winchesters could have contacted Miss Okana, as well.”

            “Great thinking,” said Steve.  “If they did I'll find out.  Jerry-”

            Jerry briefly looked up from his coffee-stained paperback.

            “Find me everything you can about the Winchester brothers.  No detail is irrelevant.”

            “Yeah, sure,” said Jerry quietly without lifting his head.

            Steve took it as an enthusiastic affirmative.  “And keep an eye on our Ghostbusters while we are gone.  I reached out to Seargeant Lukela.  He and a few other on-scene officers are interviewing the staff of the Wahiawa Botanical Gardens.  Maybe somebody saw something.  Danny, since you are taking Gracie and her friend there anyway we can pick them up and head on over together on my way to the vic's residence.”

            “Oh god,” said Danny.  “Can I get just a single moment of peace away from you?”

            “Not today, partner.”  Steve smiled.  “I'm driving.”

 

 

            Jerry stared at the laptop screen.  He could read it, but nothing seemed to stick. His focus was gone.  In the novel he had all the proof in the world that Sam and Dean were demon hunters and that they were in Hawaii to do exactly that.  But he had nothing tangible to show Five-O.  The Winchesters were like the ghosts they battled.  They popped up all over the country, but any sightings' sources and details were dubious at best.  Not to mention all of the fandom from the books he needed to filter out.

            He needed a faster solution.  And it came to him.  It was so obvious.  Though he had to admit, pretty reckless as well.  If he did it there's no way he would ever get promoted to officer by McGarrett.  But if he didn't they would never solve this case.

            “Ah, what the hell,” he said making up his mind on a whim.  He dove for the door, quickly turning back to grab the novel.  He spun back to the door but did another one-eighty turn.  He rifled through his desk and pulled out a small plastic block with prongs on one end.  Then he headed for the holding cells.

            He was going to break out the Winchesters.

 

 

            The black Camaro pulled up past the limestone walls and black iron gate into the driveway of an upscale residence docked by bunching palm trees that bristled in the island wind.  On the front stoop of the residence were two young teenage girls hiding from the hot sun in the shade of the entryway. 

            One of the girls was slender with waist-long, light-brown hair.  Her cheeks were flushed a faint pink and her skin was as white as the sands of the beaches where it refused to tan.  She was wearing a pink, bedazzled tank top and white shorts that complemented her natural blush.  Though more fond of sandals she was wearing sneakers in preparation of today's plans.  When she heard the soft, steady purr of the engine approach her eyes were alight with excitement and her resemblance to her father sharpened considerably.

            “Danno!” she said with elation.  Grace popped up and darted to the car's passenger side as Danny stepped out of the vehicle.

            “Hey, Monkey,” he said as he pulled his daughter into an embrace.  His sour mood was instantly replaced by joy.  Grace was the entire reason Danny had moved all the way across the country from New Jersey to Hawaii.  After he divorced Grace's mother he had to fight to keep himself in Grace's life.  On occasions that fight drags itself on, but every time Danny sees his daughter the battles feel justified and worthwhile.  From Danny's point of view the whole world revolved around Grace.

            Grace's arms loosened from around her father's chest.  For an infinitesimal fraction of a heartbeat Danny hesitated to let her go.  The dead body of Kamalei Okana, cocooned in a black body bag at the bottom of a dirty chasm flashed through his mind.  He thought of Grace at that age, sweet and exuberant and full of light, and thought of her in Kamalei's place.  The thought chilled him.  If Grace was gone-

            Then Danny thought of the mother. Ona Okana, who had lost her daughter to a killer he had yet to discover.  A woman who was counting on him to bring her daughter what little justice she could get.  And he remembered her face as he walked by her that morning.  The face of someone so deep in grief it was if they had simply ceased to exist.

            Suddenly Danny felt guilty.  He felt guilty that he ever considered her a suspect.  Guilty that he had walked past her that morning as if she was just part of the scenery, so lost in his argument with Steve and so jaded by the onslaught of murder and death that came with his job that he never bothered to acknowledge her pain.  And guilty that every second he spent on the case was another second that she went on without knowing who or what killed her daughter. The guilt only strengthened his resolve.  In the space of a single heartbeat the fire inside himself blazed anew.

            “What's wrong?” asked Grace.

            Danny smiled.  “Nothing, Monkey.  What's this?” he asked, gently holding an aquamarine angel pendant that hung from her neck.

            “Oh!” said Grace excitedly.  “That's Gabriel.  Mom says he's an angel and that he will keep me safe.”

            Danny furrowed his brow.  “Your mom does know that my job is to protect you, right?  I'm a cop.”

            “Mom says you're a danger to the people around you and that they shouldn't let you have a gun because you have a bad temper,” replied Grace matter-of-factly.

            “Does she, really?” replied Danny while forcing a smile.  He finally let Grace go.  Immediately she turned her attention away.

            “Hi, Uncle Steve,” she said to the Commander as he leaned over from the driver's seat and waved.

            “Hey, there Gracie!  How're you doing?” Steve replied with a smile.

            “Stan got me a new bike!  Wanna see!”

            Danny cringed slightly at the mention of Grace's stepfather. He rolled his eyes as Grace modeled her new, neon pink bicycle for the gruff military man in the muscle car. 

            “And who's your friend here?” asked Danny as the second girl walked cautiously over to the car.

            The girl was slightly shorter than Grace with a slightly bulkier frame, though she still retained some of the gangliness common among children in the throes of their growth spurts.  Her hair was jet black and shoulder-length.  Unlike Grace this girl was clearly a native.  Her tan was far darker and more saturated than Grace's, in sharp contrast to the faded, baby blue t-shirt she wore.

            At first Danny thought she was hesitating because she was shy, but it was apparent to him that she was simply waiting for their reunion to tide over.  The girl had a very bold look about her and a demeanor to match.

            “My name's Akeyla,” she said.

            Danny smiled and opened the rear passenger door.  Grace slid in.  “Nice to meet you,  Akeyla.  Hop in.”

            Akeyla ignored the door Danny was holding and got in on the rear driver side.  Grace was already buckled in, so she had to unbuckle and slide back over to the passenger side so that Akeyla could join her.

            Danny simply nodded in feigned politeness and closed the door.  “This is going to be a long trip.”

 

 

            “On three,” said Sam.  “One, two, THREE!”

            Sam and Dean both slammed shoulder-first into the door of their cell, but it wouldn't budge.

            “One, two, THREE!”

            Still nothing.

            “One, two, THREE!”

            The door did not even tremble.

            “Damn it!” yelled Dean in frustration.

            Massaging his shoulder, Sam shook his head in defeat.  “This isn't working, Dean.”

            “I don't hear any new ideas from you,” Dean shot back.  “You're being a whiny bitch.”

            “And you're being an intolerable jerk,” Sam spat back.  “We've gotten out of worse, we just need to come at this from a new angle.” 

            “How about from below?” asked a smarmy Scottish accent from behind them.  Sitting on the opposite bench of the cell, obscured in part by thin threads of smoking brimstone, was a stout man dressed to the nines in black.  Thick, heavy rings decorated his fingers, which stroked a trimmed, black goatee.  The man flashed a sly grin.

            “Well, if it isn't Moose and Squirrel, at last where they belong,” the man mused.  “In a cage.”

            The Winchester brothers snarled.  “Crowley.”

 

 

            Jerry approached the door to the holding cell hall with increasing trepidation.  Chin or Kono could step out of their offices at any moment and intercept him. They would know something was up immediately.  Then the whole plan would have to be canned.  Even worse, the more he thought about the two men locked inside the cell the more dangerous his task seemed.  Even if what he thought was true, was there any guarantee that they wouldn't kill him as soon as they were out?  Or worse, ask for his help to catch the monster?

            But there was never really a choice.  Whatever really did kill that girl, Sam and Dean Winchester were the best and only hope to stop it.  That is as long as he accepted that some type of paranormal monster killed the vic.  It even sounded crazy to him.

            Slowly, cautiously, and quietly, Jerry opened the door and stepped in the hallway.  The plastic block was held tight in his clammy, shaking hands.

            “Could this vaction get any worse?” asked Dean in the distance.

            “What do you want with us now?” he heard Sam bark.

            Jerry thought Sam was talking to him.  He couldn't yet see their cell and doubted they could see him, but he figured they must have heard him enter.

            “Have you learned nothing in our time together, Moose?  Of course Dean was always the smart one,” said a third, unfamiliar voice.  “It's not about what I want, it's about what you need.”

            Someone else was here!  Jerry's heart began to race.  No one else besides the Winchesters were in holding.  And that was definitely not the voice of any member of HPD.  Which meant that someone had broken into Five-O headquarters.  Without even realizing it Jerry inched farther down the hall.

            “We don't need a damn thing from you, Crowley,” responded Dean.

            The third voice laughed.  “Unlike you, I don't need a key to pop in and out of this cozy little cell of yours.  It looks to me like you need a way out,” said Crowley.  “Consider me your key.”

            “For a price, right?” replied Sam defiantly.

            “So the Moose does learn,” remarked Crowley.

            Jerry continued inching closer.  The smell of brimstone crossed his nostrils.  It was rank, and it burned.  He could see the cell coming into view.

            There was the sound of a scuffle followed by the sound of Dean hitting one of the walls.  Suddenly, impossibly, the third man teleported out of the cell into the hall.

            “Gaahhh!” yelled Jerry as Crowley appeared in front of him.  Reflexively Jerry hit the button on the black brick in his hand.  The prongs shot out and hit Crowley square in the face.   A violent electrical current exploded from the prongs, sending Crowley into wild spasms before dropping him to the floor.

            “Oh my god, dude!  I'm so sorry!” Jerry cried.

            “You just tased the King of Hell!” exclaimed Sam.

            Jerry was stricken and confused.  “I did what!?”

 

 

            Danny made a list in his head of everything he could think of that would be more fun than what he was doing at that very moment.  He could be running through the wilds of the Serengeti, hunted by a pride of bloodthirsty lions.  He could be ironing his clothes as he wore them.  He could be tied to a giant target at a travelling circus while every member of the audience took turns throwing knives at him.  He could be laying down in the road volunteering as a human speedbump.  Anything in the world would be infinitely more enjoyable than the car ride he was currently suffering through.

            Steve, who already contributed to the majority of stresses and irritations  in Danny's life, was instant friends with Akeyla.  Grace's friend had given Danny such a severe cold shoulder that he thought she might transmute into ice at any moment.  Danny could not follow what the two were prattling on about but the back-and-forth of their voices planted the seeds of a migraine in Danny's head and its roots were just beginning to deepen. 

            Even Grace, who Danny could normally count on to entertain him, was deep into Steve and Akeylah's conversation.  What Danny hoped would be a fun weekend alone with his daughter had become a crowded party to which he felt like a fourth wheel.

            Mercifully they finally arrived at the Botanical Gardens.  Steve had the foresight to find another route, thus circumventing the need to sit in traffic behind the police blockade where Seargeant Lukela was likely still directing confused and irritated drivers.  Driving down California Avenue the front entrance to the visitor center, a low-sitting white building with a slanted, bamboo roof, came into view.  A stone wall bearing the title of the park in iron letters greeted them as Steve pulled in past the entrance and into visitor parking.  Danny, Grace, and Akeyla exited the Camaro.

            “I'm going to pay a visit to Miss Okana,” noted Steve.  “If I need you I'll call.  You can commandeer one of those if you have to, Mister Loose Cannon,” he said while pointing at a golf cart with the word “Maintenance” emblazoned on the side.

            “Why not,” replied Danny with every bit of enthusiasm he could dredge up.

 

 

            Steve eased the Camaro to a near stop as he passed the small one-story home that belonged to Ona Okana.  It was a modest house in comparison to the larger and more modern ones that occupied most of the neighborhood.  The gravel driveway was large enough for two vehicles and bordered on three sides by inlaid, upright clay bricks.  A smattering of invasive weeds clung to the sparse patch of grass like a parasite on the back of its host.  A gold 2007 Chevy Malibu, presumably Ona's, was parked off-center in the driveway, and so there was not enough space for Steve to pull in.  A police cruiser was already parked on the edge of the small plot of grass between the house and the street, so Steve was forced to pull into a neighbor's driveway.  The neighbor trundled up to confront Steve, but before he could say anything Steve flashed his badge.

            “This is official Five-O business,” he told the bewildered and disgruntled neighbor.  “This won't be long.”

            An officer in uniform stood guard like a sentinel in front of the entrance to the home, keeping visitors out and Ona, who was still considered a person of interest, in.  There was an unmanned back door to the house, though Steve was aware that a Crown Victoria with a second, undercover officer was parked in position to monitor that exit as well.  With the exception of the officers the home seemed undisturbed.  No one could guess that anything unusual or tragic happened to the woman living inside.

            Of course Steve knew better.  He knew that the woman was a possible murderer.  He kept that thought in mind as he passed the officer standing guard and stepped through the front door.

            Steve inspected the entrance to the home.  It was a narrow hallway.  The walls were a faint, flat green with white trim and were adorned with a succession of picture frames.  Several of the pictures were relatively uniform profiles of Kamalei at different ages.  Some of the others showed Kamalei with her mother at various locations. 

            Steve stepped on something.  It was one half of a pair of Dora the Explorer Velcro sneakers.  They lay absently forgotten in the corner, one sideways the other completely upturned.  They were scuffed and dirty, but the bright pinks and oranges and Dora's wide smile were still vibrant.  Steve wondered briefly what would happen the next time they were found.  Would they be put in a box and stored away like a bad memory?  Or swept into the trash and disposed of?  Either way Kamalei was never coming home to wear them. Currently the girl was in a cadaver lab, stripped naked on a metal table and cut open like a twisted science experiment.  It was necessary to the forensic process and critical to their case but it did not make the thought more comfortable.

            Steve heard peoples' voices at the end of the hallway.  Ona was not permitted visitors, and there was hardly a chance anyone got past the watching officers.  Who could it be?  He strode purposefully toward the commotion.  “Five-O! This is- oh, sorry.”

            Ona Okana was sitting on the floor in her living room.  She was hypnotized by the video on the television.”

            “What are you watching?” asked Steve.  He tried to sound consoling but could not tell if he was convincing.

            There was a prominent delay before she registered Steve's voice.  “Home video,” replied Ona finally without looking.  “When Kamalei graduated first grade we had a party.  Just a small thing.  A couple friends from work.  My mum and dad.  She got cake in her hair and it took forever to wash out.  She just kept laughing.”

            Kamalei was dancing on the screen now.  White, yellow, and green cake frosting covered her face, hands, and hair while an Ona who seemed decades younger than the one in the room now tried to dab at her with a wet cloth. Suddenly the video cut to black.  The recording was over.  Kamalei was gone.

            Steve stepped in front of Ona.  There was silence between them that seemed to stretch on for days.  He shut off the television.

            “I'm going to ask you a question.  I will know if you're lying,” said Steve.  “Did you kill your daughter?”

 

 

            Danny took Grace and Akeyla, both of whom were too excited to stand still, up the long handicapped access ramp and inside glass double-doors of the visitor center.  The office was small and frigid.  An industrial air conditioner raged like a V8 motor in one of the windows. Cubed wooden chairs with speckled gray cushioning lined the compact waiting area.  A high-definition television played a slideshow of portraits from weddings that had taken place at each of the five floral gardens located on the park.  A heavyset native woman with a dark updo and an abundance of bracelets greeted them from behind the service counter.

            “Welcome to the Wahiawa Botanical Gardens!  I see you've noticed that we perform weddings here.  Are you getting married soon?” asked the woman energetically.

            Danny shook his head.  “Not if I can help it.  Once was enough, thank you.”  Danny was once married to Grace's mother.  In his estimation Grace was just about the only good thing that came of that relationship.  He looked over at his daughter.  She and Akeyla were absorbed by the wedding slideshow and were gorping at some of the more extravagant wedding dresses.

            The woman powered on without missing a beat.  “Well there is plenty more to see here at the Gardens.  Are you a part of the group tour or are you going to explore by yourselves?”

            “I think we will take it at our own pace today, thanks,” said Danny.

            “As it should be on a fine day like this,” responded the woman with a smile.  “Here's a map of the park.  There are markers for restrooms and help centers.  There is a portion of the park that is closed off today.  I'm afraid there's been, well, an accident.”  She lowered her voice so that the girls wouldn't hear but they were still transfixed by the television and likely would not notice if the fire alarm was going off.

            “It's okay, I know,” assured Danny.  “I'm a Detective with Five-O.  My team is working on the case as we speak.”  He handed her his card.  “If you learn anything, give us a call.”

            Danny pried the girls away from the slideshow and they walked off to start their tour.  Danny's edge was beginning to fade.  Grace seemed genuinely excited to see the gardens.  And while Akeyla still had not acknowledged his presence she was much more tolerable without Steve around to feed the beast.

 

 

            The tour was much more pleasant than Danny had imagined it would be.  The paths alternated between rough terrain and ornate walkways.  He couldn't identify any of the fauna around him but could still appreciate the natural beauty of the land, something he often took for granted in the time that he lived on the island.  Unlike his teammates in Five-O Hawaii was not where Danny grew up.  His transition to Hawaii was only a few short years ago, a work transfer made so that he could be near Grace.  Between being a cop and being a father Danny had little time to appreciate his new home.  There was a quiet peacefulness about the park that relaxed Danny.  But it could not completely permeate the morbidity that hung in the air like a dark shadow made tangible, cloaking him and weighing him down.  While Grace and Akeylah laughed and played a murder scene sat eerily in the back-drop.

            Danny's phone buzzed. He fumbled it out of his pocket.  He read the name on the display.  “Christ, Jerry, what now?” he muttered under his breath.

            “Who is it, Danno?” asked Grace.  “Is it Five-O?”

            The phone continued to buzz.  Danny sighed.  “Yeah, Monkey.  Sorry.”

            To Danny's surprise Grace smiled.  “You should take it.  It might be important.”

            Danny nodded.  “Okay.  Just give me a minute.”

            Grace and Akeyla started observing marked flowers without him.

            Danny answered the phone.  “Hey, Jerry.  What is it?”

            Jerry spoke quickly over the phone in a panicked voice.

            “What was that?  Who did you tase?” asked Danny, shocked.  He tried in vain to catch all of what Jerry was saying.  “Don't go out of my sight, girls,” he said to Grace and Akeyla while he listened to the phone.

            Grace and Akeyla ventured deeper into the fauna. The exotic flowers were even more vibrant and beautiful the farther they stepped from the trail.  Something small and red fluttered  into view.

            “Hey!  Look!” said Akeyla, pointing to the bird.  I've seen that in our textbooks.  That's an apapane!”

            “Danno said not to go too far,” said Grace sheepishly to her friend.

            Akeyla rolled her eyes.  “Don't be lame. He's right over there.  Or are you afraid of a little bird?”

            Grace reluctantly -followed Akeyla past the edge of the botanical garden into the forest.  The canopy closed tightly overhead thus blocking the sunlight.  A curtain of shadows covered everything around them as the two girls ventured forth.  They followed the movements of the apapane, hanging back so as not to scare it.  Grace stepped on a twig, which made a sharp KRAK.

            “Shut up,” whispered Akeylah.

            “Sorry,” said Grace.

            The bird eventually settled in a small open area.  It pecked at the ground for invisible specks of food while hopping to reposition itself.

            “I'm going to get up closer,” said Akeyla.  “I want a good picture.”

            Grace followed a couple steps behind.  The small bird was now in clear view.  “Something doesn't look right, Akeyla.”

            Akeylah shrugged.  “Maybe it's sick, who knows?” She slowly took out her smartphone and powered the camera app.

            Grace shook her head.  “I don't think that's an apapane at all,” she said as Akeylah positioned her phone for the shot.

            Grace stepped forward to get a closer look at the strange bird.  She remembered the pictures of the apapane birds she saw in school.  She remembered the small, round bodies, the brown eyes, the red feathers speckled with silver, the black tail, and the curved beak.  This bird was gaunt, boney, and had a crooked beak.  The feathers were red- _No,_ she thought.  _Not feathers- blood._

            Grace felt something tiny and cold land on her shoulder.  She held out her hand.  A raindrop hit her palm.  “Akeylah,” she said cautiously.  Her eyes returned to the avian nightmare ahead of them and remained fixed on it.

            “What?” asked Akeylah impatiently.  “I'm trying to make art, here, y'know.”

            The raindrops multiplied.  They rolled down the girls' exposed skin leaving behind gossamer trails of cold water along their contours.  The rain landed on the grotesque bird as well, but the blood did not wash away.  The bird was no longer hopping but was still moving.

            Then Grace understood.  There was something rumbling beneath it.

            The raindrops fell faster.

            Grace was more firm now.  “We need to go.  Now.”

            “Just one sec, geez. Almost-”

            The bird made an awful, high-pitched wail.  There was a flash of light.  Two hands shot up from the soil.  They clasped Akeyla by the neck. 

            The girls screamed. 

            The hands yanked Akeylah violently into the ground.  In an instant she was gone.

            Akeylah's phone fell to the ground.  Grace grabbed it and ran.

            Her heart pounded.  THUP-THUP.

            Something caught her foot.  A rock. She stumbled hard. 

            THUP-THUP.

            Grace's palms were scuffed and bleeding.  The rain fell in sheets now.  She fumbled to her feet, still moving.

            THUP-THUP-THUP.

            She ran harder.  Her lungs ached.  The air burned in her throat.

            THUP-THUP-THUP.

            The rain was in her eyes.  She could not see.  She ran blindly.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            She tripped again.  Harder.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            Pain seared in her knee.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            She crawled.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            Hands closed around her.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            She struggled.

            The hands closed tighter.

            THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP-THUP.

            She cried out.

            “It's all right!  I've got you,” said Danny.  “Danno's got you.”

           

 

            Jerry stepped back against the wall trembling.  Crowley lay in an unnatural position on the floor of the hallway between the holding cells.

            “Salt,” barked Dean.

            “What?” whimpered Jerry.

            “Do you have salt?  We need everything you got.  He won't be out long,” explained Dean urgently.

            “Y-Yeah.  In the kitchen,” replied Jerry.

            “Good,” continued Dean.  “Now you need to get us out of here.”

            Jerry had come into the holding area with the intention of breaking out the Winchesters.  Considering the unexplainable event that just occurred and the aggressive attitude of Dean Jerry was starting to realize how reckless his plan was and how much danger he could have put himself in.  It was a crazy idea to let these two go.  But what could he do about the dumpy, besuited man that teleported out of thin air?  This was way above his pay grade.

            “Now, fatty!” snapped Dean.  “I can see the keys in your hand.”

            Jerry stayed frozen in place, both out of indecision and fear.

            Dean was about to yell again but Sam put his hand on his shoulder.  Sam turned to Jerry.

            “What's your name?” asked Sam.

            Jerry hesitated a moment but then answered.

            “What's that in your hand, Jerry?” Sam asked pointing to the tattered paperback.

            Jerry flashed the cover of the book.  It was as Sam suspected.

            “Have you read those?” asked Sam.

            Jerry nodded.

            “Then you know who we are.  You know that we are the good guys,” continued Sam.  “Those books are all real.  This guy on the floor, Crowley, he's real too.  He's the King of Hell.”

            Jerry yelped.  “K-King of H-Hell?”

            “He's the wheelin', dealin', soul-stealin', real deal sonovabitch,” Dean chimed in.

            Sam nodded in agreement.  “He's going to wake up soon, and he's gonna be pissed at you, Jerry. He's gonna kill you and take your soul.  Unless we-”

            “Unless we get him in a salt circle,” Jerry interrupted.

            “You know your shit,” cracked Dean.

            Sam gestured for Jerry to approach.

            “How do I know I can trust you?” asked Jerry.

            “You don't,” replied Sam honestly.  “But what does your gut tell you?”

            Jerry took a deep breath and stepped forward.  “Oh, Steve is never gonna give me a badge,” he moaned.”  He unlocked the cell door and slid it open.

            “Damn right he won't,” agreed Dean.

 

 

            For the second time in twenty-four hours the Wahiawa Botanical Gardens was visited by a brigade of police officers and crime scene investigators.  This time the police were joined by a large search party.  The search ranged from trained first responders to park rangers to concerned citizens.  The uniformed K-9 squad also joined in alongside a pack of search dogs.  Each member of the party scoured the park with MagLites in hand, searching for any sign of Akeyla.

            Grace knew that they would not find her.  She saw her get yanked into the dirt.  Vanished.  She already gave her statement to the police.  Even with her father, a highly respected detective, behind her the police did not believe a word that she said.  She knew they would not.  Why should they?  What she was describing was simply impossible.  A nightmarish fiction.  And yet it happened.

            Grace clung to her father.  She clung tightly, as though if she let go she would fall through the earth beneath her feet.  Her fingers and arms strained but were locked in place.  She may not ever let go, she thought.  Letting go meant leaving the safety of her father's hold.  It meant dealing with the truth.

            She whispered so that no one would hear.  “Monsters are real.”

            Glossy strips of crime scene marker tape cordoned off a block of the park, wavering slightly in the wind and reflecting streaks of the blue cruiser lights flashing in the distance.  Occasionally a flicker from one of the several dozen MagLites would cross over a tree or a bush beyond the crime scene.  Inside the marker tape the CSI unit hunkered over several spots of interest, marking things with chalk or flags and taking photographs from every angle.  The only exception was the Commander, who surveyed the entirety of the crime scene while a voice spoke to him through his mobile phone.

            Steve McGarrett snapped his mobile phone shut and swore.  He walked briskly over to Danny Williams.  Danny looked lost in deep thought.

            “Nothing!” spat Steve.  “Chin and Kono didn't find a damn thing.  Nothing unusual or suspicious about Okana's phone records or accounts.  No debts or conflicts.  The autopsy didn't tell us anything new.”

            Danny nodded as if he expected to hear it.

            “I spoke to Ona Okana,” continued Steve.  “Went to her house.  I simply don't buy her committing that murder.”  Steve ran his hands over his face.  “We need to figure out what the Winchesters are so interested in.  Jerry hasn't gotten back to me and this case is slipping like sand through our fingers.  And now this,” he said gesturing to the crime scene.

            Grace turned her head to look at Steve through her periphery.  Her eyes were wet and heavy.

            “Don't worry, Gracie,” Steve said.  “We'll get your friend back.”

            Danny took a deep breath.  “I think the Winchesters actually did come by to help.”

            Steve shook his head in disbelief.  “Don't tell me you believe them, Danny.”

            “I'm not saying that,” replied Danny.  “But I believe my daughter.”

            Steve's obvious frustration was manifesting outward aggressively.  “What she saw- I'm sorry, Gracie,” he said sincerely, “What she says she saw simply doesn't make sense.”

            Danny was standing taller now.  “Are you calling my daughter a liar?”

            “No-” started Steve.

            “What?” yelled Danny.  “Is Grace a suspect now?”

            Grace stepped aside timidly behind her father.

            “Danny-” Steve tried.

            “You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you weren't trying to control everything around you, including my life!” snapped Danny.

            “No!” Steve snapped back.  “This wouldn't have happened if you were watching the damn kids!”

            Danny struck Steve in the face with a wild punch.  Steve spun to the pavement but unholstered his piece and rolled to a shooter's position.

            “I'm sorry,” said Steve immediately.  He holstered his gun and held out a cautious hand.  “I'm sorry, Danny.”

            Grace was sobbing relentlessly.

            “I want my keys.  I'm taking Grace home,” said Danny.  It was not a request.

            “Sure,” said Steve carefully.  He tossed the keys to the Camaro to Danny, who caught them.

            Danny picked up Grace like a small child with her head on his shoulder and stormed to the Camaro without another word.

 

 

            Crowley opened his eyes.  He was groggy and his vision was temporarily blurred as he slowly came to. “Sodding hell!” he bemoaned.

            Crowley was tied to one of the cubed waiting chairs that spotted the Hawaii Five-O office by inscribed ropes around his arms and legs.  Around him was a series of circles drawn in salt.  Each circle contained a series of unusual runes and an odd assortment of herbs and talismans.  Beyond the circles he saw the bars of the cell he had transported out of before being knocked out.  The thick smell of burning incense floated around him.  He tugged at the ropes but they burned his forearms.

            Dean was standing outside the cell with a satisfied grin on his face.

            “What are you smiling about?” said Crowley viciously.

            “Nothing,” said Dean wryly.  “Just like old times, right?”

            “You know this won't hold me, Dean,” Crowley said.

            “We'll see,” responded Dean in earnest.

            Crowley gauged his surroundings.  He glimpsed Jerry standing in the furthest possible corner.  He was staring in total bewilderment.

            “And who are you supposed to be, fatso?  Whoever you are, don't eat me.  I'm already teed off enough as it is,” said Crowley snidely.

            “Jabba over there just fried your ass, Crowley,” said Dean.  “Don't mess with him.”

            Jerry felt a small tinge of satisfaction at Dean's appraisal that was blunted by the embedded insult.

            Sam walked into the holding area carrying the firearms that he and Dean were holding when they were arrested.

            “How did you get those?  Those were in evidence!” asked Jerry in shock.  “Are you guys ninjas or something?”

            Sam looked at Jerry.  He considered saying something but thought better of it.  He handed Dean his firearm.  “Afternoon, Crowley,” said Sam derisively.  “Thanks for getting us out, by the way.  Big help.”

            “Moose,” replied Crowley with equal venom.

            Sam turned his attention to Dean.  “So what's the plan?  We've gotta catch whatever is in the gulch before it gets anyone else.”

            Dean nodded.  “Yeah, but we can't leave Crowley with Detective Doughnut over there,” he said pointing a thumb at Jerry. “One of us has to babysit him.  We don't have the materials on hand to summon Cass.”

            “I can hear you two twats, you know that?” said Crowley.

            He was ignored.

            “Think he might know something?  About whatever monster it is we're going up against?” asked Sam.

            Dean weighed that thought.  “Maybe.”

            “You mean, that thing that killed the kid really was a monster?” asked Jerry with a terrified welp.

            “Enough out of the peanut gallery,” said Dean irritably.

            “And lay off the peanuts,” added Crowley.

            Sam smirked at the joke, though not because he thought it was funny.  “Ah, the King of Hell.  Reduced to fat jokes.  You used to be scary.”

            Jerry whimpered.  “Used to be?”

            Dean directed his focus to his prisoner.  “Alright, Crowley.  What do you know about the disappearances at Wahiawa?”

            “Doesn't make a lick a' difference,” replied Crowley.  “I ain't gonna tell you.  And don't think you can torture me for information.  I am a man of distinction in that field.  It won't work on me.”

            “It's simple,” interjected Sam.  “You give us some information.  If we like it we let you go.”

            Crowley laughed.  “Really?  You don't think I'll just kill you the moment a light fart breaks this sigil?  Besides, I'd rather watch you two put your heads together.  I know you two find basic thought strenuous and I enjoy watching you struggle.”

            “Okay, dickslap,” said Dean.  “How about we go for a ride?”

            “Or how about you two put your hands above your head?” said a voice at the end of the holding area hall.  It was Chin Ho Kelly joined by Kono Kalakaua.  They both had their guns drawn.

            Dean and Sam both took cover behind solid pillars. They drew their firearms and pointed them at the officers.  It was a standstill.

            “Are you alright, Jer?” asked Kelly without removing his eyes from the brothers.

            Jerry shuffled carefully between the pairs of shooters.  “Please, put down your guns.”

            “We can't do that, Jerry,” said Kono.  She released the safety on her gun.  The others did the same.

            “You have to listen to me, guys.  The Winchesters are on our side,” said Jerry.  “They're good guys!”

            “No they're not!  They've locked me in here!” yelled Crowley with feigned desperation.  “I'm a victim!”

            Chin and Kono inched towards the direction of the cell.  Sam and Dean had nowhere else to move to.

            “You don't want to do that,” pleaded Sam.

            “Good guys don't hold hostages,” said Chin harshly.

            Sam made a quick motion away from his pillar.

            Chin fired a round.  It blasted a hole in the wall behind Sam.

            Sam retreated behind his pillar.

            “The next one goes in your chest,” Chin informed them calmly.

            Jerry tried to block his fellow Five-O companions.  “Please, just let me explain what's happening!”

            “Get out of the way, Jerry!” yelled Kono.

            Sam gave Dean a meaningful look.

            “Dammit,” muttered Dean.

            Both the Winchester brothers put their hands above their heads.  Slowly they stepped out from their cover.

            “Weapons down!” demanded Chin.

            Hesitantly Sam and Dean set their guns on the tiled floor.  They gently kicked them over to the officers.

            Kono inched forward while Chin kept the brothers at bay.  She opened the cell door.  “I'll get you out of here, sir.”

            “Kono,” warned Jerry.  “Don't let that dude go.  Don't even go near him, he's seriously bad news.”

            “Oh please, officer,” said Crowley in a ludicrously affected voice, “Don't let these brutish thugs hurt me.”

            Sam tried to make a move but Chin held him in place again.

            “Kono, stop!” begged Jerry.

            She ignored the warning and stepped into the cell.  She looked at the markings on the floor.  “What the hell?” she whispered to herself.

            Crowley cracked a sly, subtle smile.  “Closer,” he said under his breath.

            The air became thick.  Kono could feel the air around her beginning to shift. It moved slowly at first and then became a hot breeze.  Kono glanced around in startled confusion.  There were no windows in the holding area.  Where was the wind coming from?  It picked up even more.  The wind was extreme now, whipping at her hair and face.  The flames from the incense blew out.  There was a crackle of lighting.  Kono's hairs stood on end.  She could feel the electrical energy arcing around her.  Then, in a single, violent moment, the wind all blew straight up to the heavens.  Thunder crashed.

            The air in the room settled.  Dark smoke billowed in front of Kono where the thunder struck.  There was a man there.  The smoke rolled like smouldering ash off of his dark hair and his long jacket.  He stood, and from his back rose two great wings as long as the hall itself.

            Kono stared at the winged man, her mouth agape.

            “I advise that you step away from him, ma'am,” said the winged man.

            Crowley snarled.  “Oh, sod off ya bloody arse!”

            The winged man turned briefly to Crowley.  “You must enjoy being tied up.  It has become a trend.”

            Kono's gaze remained fixed on the winged man.  “You- you're-”

            “Castiel, a friend of the Win-”

            “An angel,” whispered Kono.

            Castiel shrugged.  “Yeah, that too.”  He turned to Sam.  There was a small device in his hand.  “I can't open the photos on my phone.”

            Jerry slumped against the wall.  “This is a weird day.”

 

 

            Danny pulled the Camaro into the driveway of Grace's home.  Her mother ran out before she was even out of the car to grab her.

            “Ohmygod,” she cried.  “Are you okay?”  She was clutching Grace like a life preserver.

            “M'okay,” Grace replied quietly.

            Danny stepped out of the Camaro.  There were tears in his eyes.  “I'm so sorry, Rachel.  This is all my fault.  I only looked away for a second.  I...”  He couldn't finish.  He started weeping.  “What have I done?”

            Rachel glided around the front of the Camaro,  her motherly instincts now directed at Danny.  She had seen him this way before; sad and vulnerable, his guilt eating away at him.  They were married once  He lost a police partner and good friend then.  She had seen the dark place he would go if he wasn't lifted out of his freefall.

            “Danny,” she said.  “This is not your fault.  You know that.  Grace knows that.  I know you never would have let this happen if it could have been prevented.  And I know you'll find that girl, even if you have to cross Heaven and Hell to do it.  That's who you are.”

            Danny nodded weakly.  “Have you heard from Akeyla's mother?”

            “Steve told me he called her already.  He sent an officer to watch her,” replied Rachel.  “He didn't tell you?”

            Danny didn't answer the question.  “Where's Stan,” he asked with obivous avoidance.

            “I sent him out,” she said.  “I told him this wasn't your fault and I didn't want him making a scene.  He understood.  He's good.”

            They both turned to Grace.  She looked tired.

            “Can I have a moment with her before I go?” asked Danny.

            “Yeah,” said Rachel.  She walked back to the front door but didn't go inside.

            Danny got down on on knee.  Grace was only a little taller than him like this.  “Grace, I'm going to bring Akeyla back safe.  I promise you.  I will.”

            Grace shook her head.  Her eyes were still puffy from crying.  “You can't, Danno.”

            Danny frowned for a microsecond before putting on an attempt at a reassuring smile.  “Of course I will, Monkey.  This is what I-”

            “YOU CAN'T!”

            Danny was taken aback.  Rachel was staring in their direction.

            “What are you talking about, Grace?”

            Grace reached into her pocket and pulled out small turqouise phone.  “I didn't want the police to take it before you did.”

            “What is this?” asked Danny.

            “It's Akeyla's,” elaborated Grace with a whisper.  “She got a picture.”

 

           

            The drive back to the station was a blur.  Danny's mind was a fog, preoccupied with the unreal image captured on Akeyla's phone, but unable to truly comprehend it.  There was the unmistakable face of a girl. She did not look alive. But she could not be dead.  And it was certainly no longer human.

            Danny parked the Camaro and headed inside, walking past the golden tribute to King Kamahameha.  It was there, under the King's watchful gaze, that he met Commander McGarrett.

            “Danny,” said Steve remorsefully.

            Danny stopped him.  “Let's just get this case solved.”

            Steve nodded.   They walked together in silence to rejoin the rest of Five-0.

 

 

            “Not again!” whined Jerry.

            Steve and Danny had their guns drawn on the Winchesters, who were armed in kind.

            “What are they doing out of their cell?!” demanded Steve.

            Chin brought Steve and Danny up to speed.  Danny holstered his firearm, but Steve did not.

            Castiel walked into the room eating a glazed doughnut. 

            Steve stared at the winged angel brushing crumbs off his shirt.  “Jesus Christ.”

            “Where?” said Castiel, looking around.

 

 

            Sam, Dean, and Castiel stood watch over Crowley while Five-0 deliberated.  Steve, Danny, Chin, Kono, and Jerry all took turns elaborating on what had occurred and what they found out.  The photo from Akeylah's phone was open on the war room table, projected several times larger.  The image was even more grotesque magnified.

            “So here's the question,” stated the Commander.  “Do we detain the Winchesters, or do we ask for their cooperation in the field?”

            “Basically,” said Chin, “Can we trust these guys?”

            “I suggest we vote,” said Danny.

            Steve nodded.  “This is a democracy.  Let's vote.  Those for detainment?”  Steve raised his hand.  “Those for cooperation?”

            All the others raised their hands.

            Steve hung his head.

            “You trusted us enough to bring us on board when we started, Steve,” said Chin.  “You needed a task force.”

            “Chin-” said Steve.

            “You have a task force.  Now you need monster hunters.”

            Sam, Dean, and Castiel returned to the war room.  Dean caught a glimpse of the picture on the table. 

            “The Green Lady,” he said without hesitation.  “An 'obake' demon that targets children because she lost her own in the gulch.  Best guess is that's what we are dealing with.”

            “That's a folk tale,” said Steve.  “Besides, this is clearly a kid.  The Green Lady was an adult woman.”

            Sam cut in.  “Obake are usually shapeshifters.  She could potentially take multiple forms.”

            Dean took the verbal baton.  “We need to determine who this Green Lady really is and burn her corpse.  That usually destroys a malevolent spirit.”

            Jerry shuddered.  “And if that doesn't work?”

            “We improvise,” responded Dean, gun in hand.  “Sam will take Kato and Surfer-Girl to the burial site to burn the corpse.  GI Joe and I will head to the gulch and attempt to lure the Green Lady out for capture just in case.”

            Steve gritted his teeth.  He did not like how the Winchesters were assuming control.  “Why were you two in Hawaii in the first place?  It seems awfully convenient to me that this is happening while you are here.”

            Sam stepped forward but Dean pulled him back.  “Believe it or not, we actually were trying to get away from all this shit for a weekend.  Do you think we enjoy this job?  Skulking around motels, eating shitty fast food, fighting every nightmare the world is too scared to admit is real?  Literally going to Hell and back for a job that doesn't even pay?  This ghost has been walking that gulch for decades.  Our father tried to hunt her years ago and failed.  He was a damn good hunter, too.  Don't take this lightly.  And when Sam or I tell you to do something, you better do it, or you'll be deader than that kid you found this morning.  Got it?”

            Steve said nothing.  He felt aggression building inside him, but did not have the words to argue.

            “But first,” reiterated Chin with an attempt at reconciliation, “We have to figure out who she is.  Any ideas on where to start?”

            “Emily Robbins,” suggested Kono meekly.

            “Who?” said Danny.

            Kono took a breath.  She glanced at Chin, who nodded.  “Emily Robbins was a friend of mine when I was a girl.  We went to the Botanical Gardens after school once.  It got late, and she disappeared.  She was never found.”  She wiped a tear from her eye.  “It's why I became interested in policework.”

 

 

            The equipment available in the Five-0 offices was above and beyond anything the Winchesters ever had access to.  With Jerry's guidance it only took little more than an hour for the group of officers and demon hunters to determine the first likely appearance of the Green Lady and determine a likely identity: Oma Wahine.  From there, they found her burial site, the Nanakuli Homestead Cemetary.

            “All right, as discussed,” said Dean, “Sam, take Officers Kelly and Kalakaua to Nanakuli.  Burn that sumbitch.  You're with me,” he said, pointing to McGarrett.  “Castiel will watch over Crowley.  Cherry Garcia, make sure Castiel doesn't break anything.”

            Jerry whimpered.  “You're leaving me with them?”

            “You wanna come with us?  Kill some ghosts?”

            “I'm fine here,” Jerry said, defeated.

            “I'm in charge here,” said McGarrett, stepping in front of Dean.  ”But it's a good plan.  Let's roll.”

            “What about me?” demanded Danny.  “I wanna kick this ghost's ass!”

            The room was silent.  All eyes fell on the commander.

            “Danny,” said Steve hesitantly.

            “What, Steve?” demanded Danny again.

            “I think you should sit this one out.”

            Danny laughed derisively.  “What?  Sit this one out?  That's your great plan to catch  this thing?  Keep me on the sidelines?”  He stopped laughing.  “I was there!  That thing almost took my daughter!  You have never respected me as a cop, but you won't keep me outta this!”

            Steve did not retaliate as was normally his first instinct.  Instead he was calm and in control.  “Danny,” he said.  “Of course I respect you as an Officer.  You are my partner.  You have been for years, and I've never worked with anyone better.  You were right about all of this from the beginning.  And Grace and Akeyla would not have been in that spot if I hadn't overstepped into your life again.  But you need to be somewhere else right now, and I know that despite how much you want to jump into action you know that too.”

            Danny did not argue.

            “Go see Grace.  She's had a helluva day,” said Steve.  “And that's an order, soldier.”

           

 

            The summer sun was setting.  Grace watched from her bedroom window as the sky gradually darkened.  Her mother tried to coax her to talk about what happened, but Grace never took her eyes away from the window, never spoke a word.  Her mother even brought her a bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal to convince her to eat something, but it sat on her dresser untouched, now a soggy pit of brown gruel.  She did not feel hungry.  She felt cold, despite the humid heat.

            Grace recalled going to bed the previous night feeling both anxious and a little silly.  Despite knowing it was a childish and unreasonable fear she always ran from her light switch to her bed with a leap, slightly paranoid that there might be a monster under her bed. 

            She knew now that was not true fear.  It was a child's game.  She saw a real monster today, a phantasm of malignant, rotting, death.  It had taken her friend.  Her father was searching for her that very moment.  What she felt now was true fear. 

            She wondered if her father was afraid as well.  Surely he must be.  He saw the photo on Akeyla's phone.  But if he was afraid, it did not control him.

            “Do not let your fear control you,” she told herself.

            The sun was no longer visible in the sky.  Traces of orange, pink, and purple lingered as the moon came into view.  But Grace was done watching the darkness take over.  She opened the window and slipped out.

 

 

            Chin pulled his red-with-white-viper-stripes 1965 Ford Mustang up to the Nanakuli Homestead Cemetary, parking by the entrance and quieting the purring engine.  He and Kono stepped out of the front of the vehicle while Sam struggled to get out of the back seat.

            “Something wrong?” asked Kono amusedly.

            Sam stretched and cracked his back.  “Not used to being a backseat driver.”

            The three surveyed their surroundings. 

            The cemetary was littered with hundreds of small, roughly carved tombstones under the fluid shade of sparse, tropical trees swaying gently in the night breeze.  Family plots were squared off by low stone walls.  Dirt walk paths, worn and uneven, wound themselves between low bushes and flower plots set into a poorly-fed lawn.  Many plots were adorned with flower wreaths or small, religious statues. 

            Chin's thoughts strayed to a short period of time after he had been wrongly accused of corruption and forced out of the HPD.  Then jobless, with an unearned reputation among the locals as a criminal, he had been evicted from his home and stayed several nights in a motel.  His room did not contain a television, and he had nothing but the essentials he had packed.  But it did have a King James Bible on the nightstand that he read to pass the time.  He would be lying if he told anyone he had found religion through that experience, but Exodus seemed to be burned across his mind.

            _“And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are: and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt. “_

            The scenery would have been quaint and non-threatening under any other circumstance.  But  with the apparent absence of malevolent activity before them the reality of their mission seemed to put a strange, foreboding shadow over the land.  “Blood on the doors, indeed,” he said under his breath.

            Sam pulled out some shovels from the trunk of the Mustang.  “Let's find us a body.”

 

 

            “You're going too fast,” said Steve, unable to sit still.  “Slow down.”

            “Are you joking?” retorted Dean, glaring at his passenger.  “What're you gonna do, pull me ov-?”

            “Keep your eyes on the road!”

            “Keep yer eyes on da road!” mimicked Dean.  “Just let me drive.”

            “Shoulda let me drive,” argued Steve.

            Dean laughed.  “No way yer touchin' my ride, Captain Crunch.”

            “It's Commander!” Steve shot back.

            Dean rolled his eyes and turned on the radio.  'Hey Soul Sister' was the first song to queue up.  “Ugh.  Train.  Kill me now.”  Dean turned the dial.

            “Hey!” said Steve.  “That's a great song!”

            “Nice!  Kansas!”  'Carry on Wayward Son' played through light static from the speakers.  “This is real music.”

            Steve turned it back to Train.

            Dean slapped his hand away.  “Watch it, dude!  Driver's choice!”  He changed it back to Kansas.  “No sissy music in the monster-mobile!”

            Steve huffed and turned away.

            Dean, smiling, turned the volume up to max.

            Steve turned the volume down.  “That's too loud,” he said.

            Dean turned the volume up.  “But I'm trying to tune you out!” he yelled over the music.

            Steve's shoulders slumped.  “I swear, Danny,  I'll never complain again as long as I don't have to drive with _this_ guy.”

           

 

            Danny pulled up to his ex-wife's house for the third time that day.  He was tired. 

            Night had fallen, and so the driveay was lit up by motion-sensor lights instead of sunlight now.  Danny noticed absently that Grace's bike was no longer in the driveway.  Rachel likely made her put it in the garage so it wouldn't get stolen.  She was the kind of person to worry about things like that.

            Danny was about to knock on the front door when his cell phone started buzzing.  Rachel was calling him.

            “Hey, I'm right outside,” he said into the phone.

            Rachel was breathing hard on the other line.

            “Rachel?”

            The door swung open.  Rachel looked panicked.

            “Grace is gone!”

 

 

            Chin pressed the gas pedal to the floor.  The engine revved furiously as he sped along the Honolulu highway towards the Wahiawa Gulch, siren and lights blazing.  The few vehicles on the road made way for the Mustang.  Chin swerved expertly around those that did not, burning rubber with each sharp turn.

            Sam was on his phone, urgently dialling Dean while Kono tried the same for Steve.  Sam got through first.

            “Hey Sam, what's up?” said Dean over a fluctuating connection.

            “The grave was empty!” said Sam.  “There was no body!”

            “Dammit!” yelled Dean.

            “On our way!” said Sam, and the line cut out.

            Another vehicle with firing lights blitzed past the Mustang in the other direction.  Kono watched it fly by.

            “Shit, was that Williams?”

 

 

            “What happened,” asked Steve.  “What's wrong?  Is someone hurt?”

            “No,” said Dean gravely.  “Worse.”

            He explained what was relayed to him, expanded upon from the shorthand Sam spoke in.

            “So how do we kill this thing?” asked Steve, unnerved.

            “We shoot it's fucking head off, that's how,” said Dean matter-of-factly.  “But first, we back off and wait for Sam and the others to get here.”

            But Steve didn't hear him.  He spotted motion up ahead and followed it.  It was a small female.  Steve's heart skipped.  It might be the Green Lady.

            “Hey!” he yelled.  “Hey, whoever you are! Stop right there!”

            She turned.  He saw her face briefly in the glow of his flashlight.

            Grace.

            A warm breeze cut across the air.  Then she was pulled into the earth.

 

 

            Danny rushed into Hawaii Five-O's headquarters like a man on fire.  Jerry caught sight of him and, worried, grabbed him by the arm.

            “Hey, man, what's going on?”

            Danny yanked his arm away.  “Don't touch me!” he yelled, his voice cracking.  The look on Danny's face was desperate and deranged.  “Where's the angel?”

            Jerry put his hands up in front of him.  “Hey dude, just asking.  I'm a friend, remember?”

            “Where is he?!”

            “One of the Winchesters called him!  He's taking a call, er, I guess.  Why?” Jerry explained.  He tried coaxing Danny to explain, but it was for naught.  Danny simply turned away and stormed into the holding area. 

            Crowley still sat, tied to the chair and surrounded by the sigil. His forearms under the ropes were covered in harsh burns. He looked rather bored.

            Danny stared at him dementedly.

            Crowley raised an eyebrow.  “Can I do you something, officer?”

            “My daughter's gone.  My Grace is gone.”

            “Is it now?” responded Crowley dryly.  He did not look at Danny.  “I don't care.”

            “Shut up!”  Danny slammed the cell bars.

            “You don't make demands of me!” yelled Crowley back.

            Danny stared Crowley in the eyes.  “You're the devil, right?”

            Crowley raised his chin vainly.  “King of Hell.  Poor Lucifer's... indisposed,” he said with a chuckle.

            Danny was breathing heavy now.  “You make deals?”

            A sinister grin carved itself across Crowley's face.  “I do.”

            Danny unlocked the cell door and slid it open.  He stepped inside.

            “Danny, what are you doing?”  It was Jerry's voice.

            “Stay out of this, Ortega,” said Danny.  He stepped closer to the sigil.

            “Stop, Danny!”

            Danny turned to face his colleague.  Jerry was pointing a firearm in his direction.  Danny seemed more confused than alarmed, though it was obvious that he was not thinking rationally.

            “You don't know what he is, Danny.”

            Danny shook his head slowly.  His eyes  were vacant.  “I do know.  That's why I'm here.”

            “I'll shoot you,” said Jerry, quaking.  “If I have to.”

            Danny turned back to face Crowley.  The dark smile did not yet leave his face.  He looked  entertained.

            “You want to make a deal or no, Danny-boy?  Clock's a-tickin'.”

            Danny took a step forward.

            The safety clicked off Jerry's gun.  “I won't let you break that sigil, Danny!”

            Danny took another step.

            “Danny, please!” Jerry cried.

            Danny stepped forward once more.

            BANG!

            The muzzle of the pistol flashed.  Hot, acrid smoke rolled off the tip of the gun.  Jerry's arms were shaking.  Blood painted the walls of the cell in ragged streaks. 

            Danny was on the floor.

 

           

            Steve dug with bloodied hands into the ground where Grace was taken.

            Dean stood by silently as he watched the Commander feverishly claw at the soil.  It was hopeless, and Dean knew it, but he still said nothing.         

            The occasional bark of a search dog or faint murmer of human speech from the K-9 search parties scouring the gulch for Akeyla interrupted the quiet night.  The distinct rumble of Chin's Mustang approached, and bright car lights illuminated Dean and Steve among the tropical trees.

            Chin, Kono, and Sam stepped out of the scarlet speedster, their own flashlights coming to vibrant life.

            “What happened,” asked Sam, his light pointed at Steve.

            “It got her,” Steve replied.  “It got Gracie.”

            Kono gasped.  “Emily... and now Grace.”

            Sam put his arms around Kono.  “We'll get her back.  It's kinda what we do.”  He wiped what he thought was a tear from her eye, but then he felt the drop of rain on his face.  It was hot.

            “The hell is this?” asked Dean rhetorically.

            The drizzle quickly became a downpour.  The rain came down like spattered, boiling water, stinging their skin.  The sky was obscured by dense, black clouds.  Lightning crackled across the clouds.  A putrid, rotting scent filled the air and invaded their senses, vile and sweet like vomit.

            The earth came unsettled.  There was movement in the foliage.  A figure emerged from the dirt and moss, drenched and sunken.  Black hair, littered with twigs and dead leaves, hung from her head to the ground.  In the rain her hair clung to her nude skin, pale green, rough, and mottled like a tortoise.  Swollen, raw breasts sagged obscenely over a bulging, pregnant stomach.  The rough forms of heads, hands, and feet stretched at the bulbous belly as if trying to force their way out.  Pink, jagged teeth filled an unhinged jaw.  Black, unblinking eyes peered hungrily through strands of her hair into the dark of night.  She made an inhuman gurgling purr that echoed in the rain.

            Lightning crashed.  Thunder struck.

            The Green Lady stirred.

 

 

            “Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god...”

            Jerry heaved with every breath.  His hands shook uncontrollably.  The smoking gun felt like a lead weight.

            The bullet was buried in the concrete wall in the back of the cell.  A gash seeped shiny red plasma where the bullet slashed across Crowley's face.  Blood dripped off his chin, staining his Italian suit.

            “You fat, insipid cunt,” Crowley growled.  “Moose and Squirrel enchant that bullet for you?  This is a custom suit!  I forced Mussolini to make this by hand!”

            Danny was getting up.  He dove out of the way of the bullet, but landed hard on the floor.

            “Danny, you okay?” asked Jerry without moving.  He felt frozen in place.

            “Yeah, I think.”  Something was digging into his hand.

            Salt.

            It occurred to Danny and Jerry in the same instant.  But Crowley realized it first.

            In a burst of hellfire Crowley was free.  With the sigil broken, he could finally kill the Winchesters.  But first, he would kill their new friends.

            Jerry fired the pistol.  Crowley easily dodged the bullet.

            Danny dove at the King of Hell, but was swatted away like paper.

            “You shouldn't have tased me, boy,” Crowley snarled, and lightning flew from his fingertips, electrocuting Jerry.

            Jerry screamed.

            “Stop!” pleaded Danny.  “Please, stop!”

            “Never!” yelled Crowley with delight.

            Jerry spasmed violently on the cold floor, his screams of agony echoing in the hallway.

            “You'll kill him!” Danny cried.

            Crowley howled with laughter.  “Then make a deal, Danny!”

            A silver light cut across the hallway.  Jerry's screams turned into a whimper.  A new cut trickled over Crowley's bloodied grimace.

            Castiel stood over Danny, a glowing scabbard in his hand.  His eyes bore into Crowley's.  “Deal's off, ass-butt.”

            “Angel blade?” asked Crowley knowingly.  His finger touched the cut tenderly.  He licked the blood off his finger.

            Castiel nodded.  “You're still weak from being trapped in the sigil.  This will be enough to end you once and for all, Crowley.”

            Crowley sniggered.  “And what, I'll no longer threaten the Kingdom of Heaven or some other such cack-and-bull, right, Cassie?”

            Castiel did not share his sense of humor.  He simply raised the blade.

            “I can feel her hunger like the humidity in the air.  The little moppett lives, but not much longer,” said Crowley.  “I can fix that.”

            “Sam and Dean will save her.  I believe in them.”

            The dark smile returned to Crowley's face.  “Do you?  Their daddy couldn't stop her, what makes you think those whelps can?”

            Castiel did not answer.  Instead, he attacked.   But the Angel Blade cut through smoking brimstone, for Crowley had vanished.

           

 

            Danny got to his feet.  Guilt was eating at him.  Akeyla was stolen right in front of him.  He nearly got Jerry killed trying to get Grace back.  He very nearly sold his soul.  Today was a day of poor decisions.

            Castiel sheathed the Angel Blade.  He knealt down to Jerry, who was unconscious and whose skin was ravaged by electrical burns.  The angel reached out a hand to Jerry's chest.  Irridescent light radiated from Castiel's hand.  Miraculously, the burns began to heal.

            “Mister Ortega will be fine, but he will need time,” said Castiel as he pulled away.

            “Can't you do more?” asked Danny incredulously.

            Castiel looked taken aback.

            “Not that I don't appreciate this.  This is great.  Fantastic, even,” said Danny with a bit more humility.

            “I have to be careful.  I need to conserve my Grace.”

            Danny did a double-take.  “Conserve your what?”

            Castiel elaborated.  “My Grace.  It is the energy that gives angels like myself our powers.  I may need some in our confrontation with the Green Lady.”

            So it was Grace that gave him his power, thought Danny.  It was his daughter Grace that gave him strength.  Perhaps, Danny suspected, the world of angels and demons and monsters that the Winchesters inhabited was not so far removed from his own.

            “Now come, Detective Danny Williams.  It is time we saved your daughter.”

 

 

            The Green Lady wrapped her long, scaly fingers around Kono's neck.  She let out a low, gutteral purr.  A long, blue tongue slithered from her unhinged maw.

            The searing waves of rain made it nearly impossible to fight the monstrosity before her.  Kono's eyes wandered down as she gasped desperately for breath.  First, to Chin, laying bloody and unconscious beneath The Green Lady's feet.  The ground was beginning to flood.  If the Green Lady did not kill him, he was certain to drown in mere minutes.  Then her eyes wandered to the churning, pregnant stomach.  At the very least, she would die before she saw what monster dwelled inside that womb.

            A gun fired.  It passed through the Green Lady's head like water. She hissed.  A smell of rot and garbage assaulted Kono, but she couldn't retch with a hand crushing her throat.

            “Get away from her!”  Sam ran at the monster with a fire axe, but was thrown back into a tree.

            The water continued to rise.  Kono was blacking out.  In her periphery she saw Steve, holding Dean from falling, with a gun in his free hand.  Four bullets fired.  The Green Lady felt nothing from them.

            Kono felt the monter's grip tighten.  And then there was nothing.

 

 

            Castiel and Danny transported to the spot on the Wahiawa trail where Akeyla was taken.  A hot storm raged over the gulch, slammin them with torrents of scalding rain. 

            “What is this storm?” yelled Danny over the howling weather.

            “The Green Lady!  She is flooding the gulch!” yelled Castiel back.

            “Where's Steve and the others?” Danny asked, looking around. 

            “Not here!”  Castiel stepped into the forestry.  “We aren't here for them!”

            “What?” asked Danny, confused.

            Castiel put a finger over his mouth and raised his other hand.

            It was difficult to see in the rain, but he thought he saw something land on Castiel's hand.

            A little red bird.

           

 

            Steve dragged Kono to the Impala, unceremoniously dumping her in the back.  There was no time for gentility.  Dean carried his younger brother to the Impala as well, narrowly avoiding a slash from the Green Lady, and dropped him in the front passenger seat.

            “What about Chin?!” Steve called over the raging storm. 

            The Green Lady still stood over him.  In the flood he would be dead within the minute.

            “It's too late!  We have to get you out of here!” yelled Dean.

            Steve shook his head violently.  “No!  I can't!  Chin's _ohana_!”

            “Damn it!”  Wielding Sam's fire axe, Dean waved attention at the Green Lady.  “Hey, you fat bitch!  Over here!”

            The Green Lady turned in his direction.

            “That's right, Big Bertha!  I bet yer kid is gonna be an ugly freak!”

            The creature lunged at him.

            Dean swung the axe.  The heavy rain stunted his momentum, but the blade still connected.  The axe lodged itself in her clavicle.  She did not feel it.  She raised her hand to strike the killing blow.

           

 

            It was pitch black.  Danny felt around.  Cold stone walls helped him to his feet.  He must have dropped his flashlight above ground, he thought.  He pulled out his cell phone.  No service, obviously, but mercifully he downloaded a flashlight app and it still functioned.

            Danny was in some sort of natural tunnel.  He was surrounded by goshenite formations.  Curiously, the ceiling was... water?

            “I wouldn't touch that if I were you,” said a familiar voice.  It was Castiel, standing several yards away.  “We don't know where that goes.”  He pointed.  “This way, I can sense her calling to us.”

            “Who?” asked Dean, confused and disoriented.

            “Who else,” Castiel replied.  “Her daughter.”

 

 

            Danny followed Castiel through a winding maze of caverns.  Occasionally he would hear what sounded like a voice coming from another branch of the tunnel, but Castiel refused to let Danny investigate.  It would be too easy to get lost, he would say.  And what they found may not be human.

            “What the hell is this place anyway, Castle?” asked Danny.

            “ _Castiel_ ,” the angel enunciated.  “It is a place between,” he continued, failing to elaborate.  “The agents of Heaven have little authority here.  Now be quiet.  She is just up ahead, Detective.”

            “Hmm?  Whoa!”  Danny tripped over something.  “Dammit.  What was that?”  He fumbled for his phone again.  The light flashed on again.  “Shit!”

            It was a body of a young girl.  She had decayed significantly, but was still unmistakable from the images he had seen of her during the investigation. 

            “Emily Robbins,” he said in a hushed breath.  She was wearing the same outfit as she was in one of the photos, including a unique charm bracelet on her ankle.

            Castiel urged Danny along.  “We don't have much time.”

            Danny unlatched the ankle bracelet and put it in his pocket, then got to his feet.  “Right,” he said, shaking a little.

 

 

            It was the largest room they had come across in the caverns, bitterly cold and topped by another water ceiling.  She was obscured by a stalagmite.

            “Hello,” she said pleasantly.  Her voice was high.  Unnatural.

            “Hello,” replied Castiel.  He held up a hand so that Danny did not speak.

            “Most people just get lost in this place,” she said with a divorced cheeriness.  “Of course, I know where everyone is.  They all go tappity-tap-tap.  I tell them not to run, but they run.”  She was quite for a moment.  “Then mommy gets them.”

            “Do you know where two girls are?  Akeyla and Grace, they were taken today,” asked Castiel.

            She laughed.  It was not the laugh of a child, but of something inhuman.  “Of course I know where they are, silly.  I just said.  They go tappity-tap-tap.  You don't listen.”  Her voice became suddenly dark.  “I don't like adults that don't listen.”

            Danny tried to speak but Castiel stopped him again.  “Can you take us to them?”

            “No,” she said.

            Danny was crestfallen.  But Castiel continued.  “Did your, er, mommy take them?”

            “Oh, no, silly!”  She laughed again in that high, unreal laugh. 

            Danny shivered.

            The daughter continued.  “I took them so mommy wouldn't.”

            “What do you mean?” asked Danny.

            Castiel glared at him.

            The daughter answered.  “Mommy kills the girls.  She likes the boys though.  She puts the boys inside her.”

            Danny stepped forward.  This time he waved at Castiel to be quiet.  “So you try to get the kids before your mother does.  To save them?”

            There was unmistakeable grief in her voice.  “I don't like it when mommy kills the girls.”

            A realization came to Danny.  In some way, he thought he understood this child, cursed to an eternity for her mother's sins.  A child who was never loved, but still had love within her, however morbid or toxic it was.

            “Your mother didn't want a daughter, did she?”

            “Mommy wanted a boy.  She tried to un-have me.”

            A vision raced across Danny's mind, one of a mother drowning her daughter in the gulch.  The pieces began, he thought, to coalesce in his head.

            “She was a bad adult,” she said.  “So I killed her.”

            A chill ran down Danny's spine.  This girl- this _thing_ \- was demented.  But not past humanity.

            “Grace,” Danny said, “She's my daughter.  She's my everything.  I love her very much.  And Akeyla is her friend.  Please, you have to take us to them.”

            The small, child-like monster stepped out of hiding.  “I don't like bad adults.”

            Danny was horrified by her.  But he did not dare look away.  “Please.”

            “Did you want a daughter?” she asked, surprising Danny.

            Castiel put his hand in his trenchcoat, his fingers wrapping around the handle of his Angel Blade.

            Danny nodded.  “Always.”

            She stepped back into the darkness.  “I can't.  Mommy will get them.”

            Danny dropped to his knees.  He couldn't find the strength to plead.

            Castiel put his hand on Danny's shoulder.  “I'm sorry, Daniel.”  Castiel began channelling the energy for transportation.

            “Wait!” yelled Danny.

            Her eyes shown in the distant darkness.

 

 

            The Impala roared to life.  Steve slammed the gas, ramming the monster and sending her hurtling across the field.

            “Get in!” he called to Dean.  “This time, I'm driving!”

            Dean clambered into the backseat with an unconscious Kono and Chin.

            The Green Lady struggled to her feet, the mutant, shifting mass in her womb weighing her down.  Steve had her lined up with the Camaro.

            “Kill that bitch!” yelled Dean from the back.

            The hot air suddenly became cold.

            Steve revved the engine.

            Instantaneously, a hand came up from the earth.  It pulled the Green Lady down.

 

 

            The Green Lady collapsed from the fluid ceiling and onto the crystallized goshenite floor.  She let out a primal howl.  Her eyes locked on to Danny.

            Danny was fast.  He drew his piece and fired three quick shots, one of which went between her eyes. 

            They barely slowed her down.  She lunged for Danny.

            Castiel shoulder-blocked the rancid, naked abomination.  She rolled across the cavern floor like a ragdoll.  Before she could get back up Castiel threw a haymaker that shattered her teeth.  Castiel's hand was cut open. 

            “Well,” said the angel, “That can't be good.”

            The Green Lady swung at him.  Castiel flew across the cavern, landing hard against the rock wall.  His Angel Blade skitted across the cavern floor, glistening in the darkness.  Danny swiped it.

            The Green Lady turned back to the detective.  It lunged again.

            Danny swung wildly with the blade.

            The Green Lady howled with pain.  Her right arm lay on the ground.

            Danny acted fast.  He swung at her left leg, severing it at the knee.  The Green Lady collapsed, still caterwaulling.  Danny ran the Angel Blade through her left arm, pinning her to the ground.  He quickly stumbled away towards Castiel.

            The daughter emerged from the ceiling to the floor.  Water dripped upwards from her body back to the liquid above.

            The Green Lady shrieked and flailed violently at the sight of her daughter.  The unliving deformity in her stomach continued to claw from the inside.

            “This must end!” declared Castiel, clutching his bleeding hand.  “The only way to break the cycle of death is to give life!”

            The daughter stared at her struggling, malevolent mother.  “I don't like bad adults.”

 

 

            Rachel and her husband Stan sat with Akeyla's mother in Danny's office at Five-O headquarters.

            Jerry gave them privacy.  He was hard at work, anyway.  It may raise unnecessary questions having multiple bullets, copious amounts of blood, and strange, ritualistic salt drawings littering the holding cells.  Thus he was very busy cleaning.

            Steve limped into the Five-O war room with Chin leaning on him for support.  They were followed by Kono, Sam, and Dean.

            Rachel saw them and burst out of the office.  “What happened?  Where's Danny?”

            “Right here, Rach,” Danny said, bringing up the rear. 

            Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes.  “Oh god, Danny.  You look like hell.”

            “You've no idea.”  He left out the parts about unleashing the King of Hell, travelling to a mysterious plane of existence, battling a swamp monster, then watching the daughter of said swamp monster force itself back into it's mother and out the womb in some morbid ritual of rebirth.

            “Did you find the girls?” she asked desperately.

            “Right over here,” said Castiel.  He held Akeyla and Grace by the hands.  They ran to their mothers.

            Danny pulled Kono aside.  He slipped the ankle bracelet out of his pocket.

            “Oh my god,” she said.

            Danny frowned.  “I'm sorry, Kono.”

            “No, Danny,” she said, her eyes fresh with tears.  “Now I know.  Thank you.”

            Rachel hugged Grace so tightly her daughter couldn't breath.  Eventually, Rachel loosened her grip.  She held Grace's pendant of Gabriel in her fingers.  “Thank the lord you had an angel watching out for you.”

            Grace turned to Castiel and smiled.

           

 

            Sam and Dean loaded their confiscated gear back into the Impala while Castiel fiddled with his phone.

            “It feels good to be in dry clothes again,” remarked Sam, setting a jug of holy water in the trunk.

            “Damn skippy,” agreed Dean.

            “I don't know,” said Kono from a distance.  “I'm a surfer-girl.  I like getting wet.”  The rest of Five-O followed behind.

            “Feel free to tag along.  I can ditch the squirt anytime,” said Dean, thumbing to his younger brother.

            “Sorry, little boy,” she replied, “Happily married.”

            “Ooh, didn't see that coming,” said Dean.

            “Geez, cuz, take it easy on the poor guy,” said Chin, chuckling.

            Steve stepped forward.  “Thank you both.  Because of your assisstance we have solved not just the murder of a young girl, but several cold cases as well.”

            “What's going to happen to Ona Okana?  The public thinks she killed her daughter,” said Sam.

            “Doctor Bergman, our Chief Medical Examiner, recorded the official cause of death as accidental.  We have already put out a statement that Miss Okana is cleared of all suspicion,” explained Steve.

            Danny stepped forward now as well.  “More importantly, you helped save my daughter.  I can't ever thank you guys enough.”

            Sam and Dean both shrugged.

            “But we are prepared to try!” said Jerry with excitement.  With a dramatic magician's wave he produced three glistening badges.

            Steve elaborated.  “You are now all honorary members of Five-O.  No more need to pretend, you are official officers of the law.  In Hawaii, anyway.”

            “Wow, thanks,” said Sam.

            “No,” said Steve, his eyes on Dean.  “Thank _you_.”

            “And thanks for signing my book!” said Jerry, waving his tattered copy of 'Supernatural' in the air.

            Sam, Dean, and Castiel got into the Impala.  Dean turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.

            “Dean,” said Sam, “I know this wasn't the vacation you wanted.  It sucked, I'm sorry.”

            “You kiddin',” Dean replied, “This was awesome!”

           

 

            Steve and Danny watched the Impala pull away from the curb and drive off.

            “I have got to get me one of those,” said Steve.

            “If I get you one,” said Danny,  “Will you finally stop driving my car?”

 

 

 

**The End**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_*Brian Tyler and Keith Power perform the Hawaii Five-O theme song_


End file.
